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KRIS LONGKNIFE: REDOUBTABLE
An Ace Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Ace mass-market edition / November 2010
Copyright © 2010 by Mike Moscoe.
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1
Lieutenant Commander Kris Longknife paused just outside the bridge hatch. She steadied herself, one hand on the bulkhead, the other heavy on her cane, waiting for the wave of dizziness to pass. The docs said these episodes should be getting fewer and fewer.
So far, the docs were bloody optimists.
Kris measured her breathing and fixed her eye on a hatch farther down the passageway of the Wardhaven Scout Ship Wasp, and thought, TIME, NELLY?
YOU’RE STILL TWENTY-ONE MINUTES EARLY TO RELIEVE THE WATCH, KRIS. ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?
I’M FINE, Kris lied to her personal computer, acquired at a cost greater than several ships of the Wasp’s value.
YOUR BLOOD PRESSURE, PULSE, AND RESPIRATION DON’T LOOK FINE, Nelly pointed out.
AND TO THINK, THIS TIME THE BOMB WASN’T EVEN AIMED AT ME, Kris thought.
IT WAS, Nelly countered. IT WAS JUST THAT THEY WERE AFTER THE GUY WITH YOU FIRST, AND YOU SECOND.
ENOUGH OF THIS, Kris thought, let go of the bulkhead, steadied herself without the help of the cane . . . without much help from the cane . . . and marched onto the bridge of the Wasp.
A glance showed her that tonight’s watch was double the norm for a scout ship . . . and huge for the merchant ship Mary Ellen Carter that the Wasp claimed to be.
Sulwan Kann, the Wasp’s navigator, was Officer of the Deck. In her usual cutoffs and tank top, she, like most of the Wasp’s original contract crew, refused to let the added Marines and sailors now aboard make her drop her easygoing ways. Kris got a two-finger waggle toward Sulwan’s brow for a salute. Kris returned a regal nod . . . as befitting the princess she was.
Still, the relief process went straight Navy. “I stand ready to relieve you,” Kris said. “What is the Wasp’s condition?”
“Situation normal, decelerating at .85 gees toward Kaskatos.”
“And the unknown?”
“The bogey is steady on her course. She will make orbit around Kaskatos at the same time and in the same space we do. What a coincidence.” The OOD and ship’s navigator tapped her command board, and the forward screen showed the star system, then zoomed in to show the two ships, the Wasp approaching Kaskatos from the system’s Jump Point Alpha, the unknown from the nearest gas giant.
“It could be just a local entrepreneur, harvesting reaction mass to sell to any ship that comes by,” Kris said.
“That would explain why it’s aiming to make orbit right at our elbow,” Sulwan said, raising an eyebrow.
Kris shrugged; out here beyond the Rim of human space, the logical answer rarely was the right one.
“And if that ship is just a nice, hardworking merchant, why isn’t he on the horn, hawking his wares?” Sulwan added.
That was a definite strike against the business hypothesis. “It’s not like he’s got to worry about us buying from anyone else,” Kris said. Kaskatos was also silent as a tomb.
Sulwan snorted. “They promote you, Princess, and suddenly you go all soft on us? I thought you Longknifes were supposed to get more bloodthirsty as you went up the promotion ladder.”
Kris laughed. “I’m kind of enjoying nobody trying to kill me.”
“Then how come you got us out here fishing for pirates,” Chief Beni snapped from where he sat at Sensors. His uniform actually looked good on him. He’d lost weight and was wearing fresh khakis every day. Having an actual leading chief aboard the Wasp was definitely crimping his style. But even that couldn’t change his perpetual devotion to avoiding harm’s way.
“Cause those are our orders,” Kris said. “Signed by King Ray himself.”
“Couldn’t you have told your grandpapa you preferred a nice quiet corner of the universe?” the chief asked.
“You’ve been with her longer than I have, Chief,” Sulwan said. “It seems her granddad wants her far away from him first, last, and foremost . . . and usually in hot water up to her pretty ears.” The navigator sank into deep thought for a moment, her finger tapping pursed lips. “Or is it she wants far away from him?”
“The feelings are mutual,” Kris grumbled. “Now, if I relieve you, will you show me some respect?”
“Never, but I would like to be relieved.”
“Have there been any communications in the last four hours from either the unknown or Kaskatos?”
“Not a peep,” Sulwan reported. “Per captain’s orders, we hailed both of them every hour on the hour. Not even a nasty word in reply.”
“Any signs of life, Chief?” Kris asked.
“Kaskatos shows power lines in use. It has thermal plumes around cities and large structures, just like you’d expect. There is some but not a lot of activity on the roads and rivers. There are people there. They just ain’t talking to us or to each other.”
Kris would have cursed the inventor of the fiber-optic cable if she knew his or her name. Many start-up colonies were skipping radio and jumping direct to cable. That left little radio communications to eavesdrop on. That people were willing to put cable on their basic survival list said something about conditions out here beyond the Rim of human space.
Or what had been the Rim of human space.
Kris almost laughed out loud at the stale joke. The Society of Humanity had broken up for many reasons. Still, at the top of most lists was the difference between the staid . . . some might say decadent older planets, Earth and the like . . . and the more vibrant . . . some might say malcontents . . . out on the Rim. Earth said we’d found enough planets; colonies were a drain on money better spent closer to home. The younger worlds saw new colonies as places to make fortunes and get elbow room. The politicians haggled for years, couldn’t solve the problem, and finally settled on splitting the sheets.
Six hundred planets went different ways . . . without a shot fired. Thanks be to any god involved . . . and a little bit of mutiny by one Ensign Kris Longknife.