Right, of course. Nelly would never needlessly risk one of her kids.
KRIS, I NEED TO DO SOME OTHER STUFF, AND I CAN’T DO IT AND TALK TO YOU. THAT WAS ONE OF THE REASONS I WASN’T TALKING TO YOU. THAT AND YOU BEING A LUSH. I’LL TALK MORE WHEN I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY. GOOD NIGHT.
On that note, Kris rolled over. And found she could not sleep.
Undulled by alcohol, her mind spun madly through the last five years of her life. Assassination attempts, one after another, flashed before her. And battles—battle after battle with high butcher bills extracted from enemy and friend alike.
Kris tried squeezing her eyes tighter shut. She did everything she could to drive her skull to blankness.
Nothing worked.
Finally, a tiny voice in the back of her head asked, Do you really want to go back to this? Are you crazy enough to think they’re worth saving yet again?
“No,” Kris shot back to herself. “I’ve never wanted all that. I’m not crazy.”
Well, you’re sure acting crazy. Look around you. You’re safe here. No one’s taking potshots at you. No one’s asking you to go out and save the world. Hell, Kris, what has saving anything got you but a kick in the gut? Has anyone ever said thank you?
Kris sighed. This other self had a point.
I mean, you don’t have to crawl into a bottle, any more than you have to get back onto this damn horse and go charging back out into the bloody slaughter for those ungrateful SOBs. Calm down, girl. Take a deep breath. You can put your time on Madigan’s Rainbow to better use. There’s no reason why you have to gallop out of here and pull their and Grampa Al’s chestnuts out of the fire.
Kris took that deep breath. She was none too sure where this other self of hers was coming from, but she did have some very good points. Yes, Penny and Abby had risked a lot to get her a chance to bust out, but where was she going?
Don’t have any idea, do you? that voice pointed out.
But then you usually don’t have a clue where you’re going and what you’ll do when you get there, another side of Kris joined in from somewhere deep in herself. You don’t know, but somehow you pull the right miraculous rabbit out of your hat. That’s what you do best. Right?
Yeah, right, came back at her. But you know you’re running out of rabbits. Even Captain Drago said you were scraping the bottom of your rainbow’s pot of gold. How much longer before there’s just no more of you left?
Kris allowed herself another deep breath. Both her selves were dead-on. And if Kris was honest with herself, her stay-here version was way ahead on points.
What was there out there for her but more bloody gambles with her own and a whole lot of other people’s lives?
There’s Jack. Because he got crosswise with those damn Longknifes, they’ve got him locked in a corner. He could be stuck there for the rest of his life unless someone like you lends him a hand, came back at Kris.
Kris found herself scowling. Nobody put Jack in a corner. Not while she had a say in it. And besides, she wanted Jack. She needed Jack. She even missed fighting with him. She missed bouncing ideas off him. Missed having him bent over a battle board beside her, the smell of him close. His warmth . . .
Right, his warmth close but never touched. Never touched until she finally did . . . and they carted her away and left him standing there on the dock.
That decided it for Kris. Not for all humanity. Not for Grampa Al. Certainly not for King Ray. But for Jack. Yes. For Jack, Kris would take this ticket out of her quiet little corner of the universe and see what havoc the morrow brought.
Kris rolled over to the other side and went to sleep, perchance to dream of Jack.
4
Next morning, Kris went about her duties as commander of FastPatRon 127 much the same way she had for the last month, but now her eyes saw what she’d ignored.
She was most definitely locked away in Siberia.
Her XO was always at her elbow; she or the leading chief was Kris’s constant shadow. Kris couldn’t go to the head without company. And her duties involved spending a whole lot of time in meetings and even more at her desk, reviewing paperwork.
Kris had never really commanded a ship. On the Wasp, she had Captain Drago to handle all the administrative details. When she’d commanded PF-109, they’d operated by Hooligan Navy standards and left most of the boring stuff to Commander Mandanti on their tender.
Did it really take all these reports to run a dozen small ships?
She’d managed only one jaunt up to the space station to review her twelve fast patrol boats and their crews in person.
Only one.
Clearly, someone had heard of the legendary charisma and leadership of those damn Longknifes and was taking no chances that Kris might actually lead her squadron into something that the powers that be didn’t want. Kris had to wonder just how scared they were of her. The fast patrol boats were tiny things, powered by small matter/antimatter reactors. No one in their right mind would risk them in star jumps.
Then again, the Longknife legend didn’t credit Kris’s relatives with much right-mindedness. And Kris’s Navy career to date didn’t show much evidence of one for her either.
After a morning full of meetings with people who loved the sound of their own voices and weren’t much good at listening, lunch was at the club. With no significant military presence, Madigan’s Rainbow had no officer’s club, but there was one restaurant that doubled as the place for the top managers of Elysian Fields to see and be seen.
As usual, Kris’s lunch turned into a four-martini affair. Her XO saw that Kris’s glass was refilled anytime it got close to empty.
DON’T YOU EVEN THINK OF REDUCING YOUR ALCOHOLIC INTAKE, Nelly warned before Kris could do just that.
Kris did manage to leave some slop in the bottom of the fourth.
HIT THE HEAD, Nelly ordered cryptically, as Kris headed back to work.
Kris excused herself from her XO, who suddenly manifested a need for the same stop.
THIRD STALL.
Kris went to it.
FEEL INSIDE THE TOILET-PAPER DISPENSER.
Kris made to get some paper to blow her nose . . . and found a small vial with an easy open lid, something like those used for eye drops.
KEEP IT HIDDEN, BUT PUT A DROP ON YOUR FINGER, AND PUT IT ON THE BACK OF YOUR TONGUE.
Kris did—and was immediately and violently sick.
KEEP THAT HANDY, Nelly said. GOOD-BYE.
A moment later, Kris sheepishly cleaned out her mouth and washed her face under the eyes of her watchdog XO.
“I guess I can’t hold my liquor like I used to,” Kris said.
“Maybe you ought to check in with the clinic. Any chance you could be pregnant?”
Kris laughed at the thought. “Even Longknifes need a man for that, and, no, my last assignment was a tad too busy for anything like that.”
The XO had made a point of not wanting to know anything about Kris’s last mission. So had everyone else Kris ran into.
Everyone.
First night on planet, Kris had wandered into a karaoke bar and hit upon an idea. She signed up for a stint singing.
Once Kris got her hands on the mike, she didn’t sing a note, but started laying out for all what she’d seen and done.
At least Kris had tried.
She hadn’t gotten three words out before four burly men appeared out of nowhere and grabbed her. A smaller man got his hands on the mike and started singing off-key, while the others hustled her out the back door of the bar.
A calm-looking little guy in a suit smoking something joined them in the dark alley. He finished his smoke while eyeing Kris, then flicked the butt at her.
“Don’t ever try that again,” he said. “Next time, my associate will get to play with you a lot more. A whole lot more.” He turned on his heels and left. A minute later, the four guys let go of Kris and seemed to vanish into thin air.