“How many people around you are afflicted with good sense?” Abby asked dryly.
Kris shrugged an admission of the question, if not an answer.
“You got any IOUs with Colonel Hancock?” Penny asked.
Kris shook her head. “He saved my bacon once or twice, and mine and Tommy’s neck once when I got us up a flooding creek without a boat, or rather with a boat that suddenly wasn’t there.” At the questioning glances, Kris shrugged. “There was a problem with Smart Metal that was dumb. Or maybe intended to kill me. Nothing that could stand up in a court of law. You know how that goes.”
“Oh don’t we,” all the women said in three-part harmony.
“So, if any markers were left on the table,” Penny concluded, “they’re yours, not his.”
“Sad but true,” Kris admitted.
“Let’s face it.” Abby said. “Most everyone who’s met our girl here is only too glad to see her rear end sashaying out of their lives. I don’t know many who want to see that flat chest of hers coming at them.”
“Oh, I love your way with words,” Kris said with a sigh.
“Well, I know of at least one fellow whose first thoughts are of you,” Penny said.
“Who would that poor fool be?” Abby asked.
“A certain cop on New Eden. You remember an Inspector Juan Martinez?”
“Yes, good man,” Kris said. “He and his proud caballeros helped save a whole lot of people’s necks, including mine, when one of Harry Peterwald’s henchmen tried to replace their government with something more sympathetic to Greenfeld’s imperial goals. What’s he up to now?”
“Making sure that someone else doesn’t foist a government on New Eden more to their liking than the one the people of New Eden might choose on their own,” Penny said.
“And this matters to us how?” Abby drawled.
“I’m getting to it, and it’s why I’m risking my neck looking you three up to gab about old times. It seems that somebody intended to rig last month’s elections on New Eden. Part of it was sleight of hand, part of it was inciting some unhappy folks to do things that might or might not be in their best interests. Anyway, Juan and some of his police friends got wind of what was happening, and, having been burned once, they were a bit more shy of this crap than the average guy.
“After everything but the crying was over, a reporter, Winston Spencer, drew the assignment to cover the story for Galactic News Network. He and Juan are talking over a drink or two when it comes up that they have both had the misfortune of making your acquaintance. You do know both of them, don’t you?” Penny asked.
“I’m acquainted with the reporter,” Kris lied. “I don’t really know him.”
From the looks on Abby’s and Penny’s faces, she could have saved herself the lie. Neither was buying it.
With a scowl, Penny went on. “So Juan tells Winston more than what made it into the official police reports on the incident.”
Abby put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her spread fingers. “Do tell,” she said, the image of a gossip in full harp.
“It seems one of the main movers and shakers of this conspiracy liked to brag to his girlfriends about what a big man he was. He blabbed pretty much the entire scheme, but he added an extra twist. They were going to solve the alien problem as well.”
“Alien problem? What’s that mean?” Kris asked.
“Juan doesn’t know, but what he does know is that the talking dude was found by his girlfriends the next day with his throat slit. That’s what sent them to the police.”
“But they didn’t know what he meant by that,” Kris said.
“Nothing. The investigation found only a whole lot of nothing when they tried to follow up on it.”
“And you risked coming here why?” Kris asked.
“Because, at the very bottom of the pit, in the dark that couldn’t be pulled into the light of any court, Juan and his cops found the fingerprints of your grandpa, Alex Longknife.”
Abby whistled.
“Now do you see why I’m risking my neck for this quality time together?” Penny asked, glancing at the squalor around them. “Your rich grandfather who swore never to get involved in politics again is using ugly means to try to take over planets. And his henchmen think this is only a means to an end that might have aliens involved.”
Kris pushed herself gingerly away from the table, trying not to put her hands into anything that might have mutated into something deadly, all the time shaking her head at the thought of how much death and mayhem a way-too-scared and way-too-wealthy Longknife could create.
“I don’t think this calls for a drink,” was all she could think to say.
“I’ll drink to that,” Nelly said.
3
Kris let her team enjoy Nelly’s joke. “You’re getting better, girl,” she told her personal and not very personable computer.
“I didn’t have much to do for the last month,” Nelly answered, pointedly.
“Well, the vacation is over. Nelly, how safe are we at the moment?”
“You’re stretching your safety margins. Abby needs to get out of that bath, and you need to get out of your vomit. Penny, here, needs to get moving. This hideout is needed by some real thugs, and I can’t vouch for the cops not banging down the door much after they get here.”
“Can you and your kids keep Penny off the security net?” Kris asked.
“We’ve done it for a week now.”
“You’ve been here a week?” Kris said.
“I needed a couple of days to connect with Abby, then a few more to set up this meeting. Kris, if you think you’ve lived in a security bubble before, you have no idea how tight things are around you now.”
“Yeah,” Kris admitted. She hadn’t known, and she hadn’t been all that interested in knowing how tight the shackles were on her legs. It didn’t seem to matter, there was no way to cut the chains.
And no real reason to try.
Now she had a reason.
Jack needed help to get out of his mess. And, apparently, all human space needed to be saved from one of her relatives.
Oh joy.
With a promise from Nelly to arrange another meeting soon, they slipped away. The light in the room once again became near nonexistent. Penny went first, her clothes ninja black, and, Kris suspected, absorbing her body heat to make her a hole in the night. Abby went next and vanished before her footsteps were lost in the night.
Kris and Cara quickly found themselves back on the street, retracing their path to the road across from the park. Cara put her shoulder under Kris’s arms, and the two of them staggered a bit.
YOU’RE BACK ON THE GRID, Nelly warned Kris. The walk back to quarters went quickly, with Kris trying to absorb all that had been dumped on her.
She really was a prisoner here.
Jack was locked away just as tight and had even less of a chance than she did to get out of jail.
Grampa Al, of all people, was dabbling in politics and alien affairs!
And none of it got down to the real problem: Kris had started a war with alien hordes, and humanity seemed intent on pretending it hadn’t happened.
Back in her quarters, Kris played her part. She dutifully apologized to Abby for her black eye . . . and was ignored by her surly maid. She sputtered through a cold shower, griping the whole time at Abby, then let herself be put to bed.
Only after the lights were turned out did she attempt to contact Nelly.
CAN WE TALK? Kris asked her computer.
IF WE DON’T DO TOO MUCH OF IT. I THINK THEY’RE MONITORING MY ELECTRICAL USE AND YOUR BRAIN ACTIVITY.
CAN THEY DO THAT?
I WOULD. NOW QUIT WASTING TIME.
CAN YOU GET ME OFF THIS PLANET THE SAME WAY YOU GOT PENNY HERE?
NOT LIKELY. WE’LL HAVE TO COME UP WITH SOMETHING ELSE.
ARE YOU WORKING ON IT?
OF COURSE, KRIS. IF WE DIDN’T THINK WE HAD A CHANCE, WE NEVER WOULD HAVE LET PENNY BRING MIMZY DOWN HERE.