No wonder millions of people had fled. Kris had to wonder what was actually going on down planet. What were people doing for jobs? How were they earning their daily bread? Had the exchange process broken down so badly that farmers weren’t even bothering to harvest their crops?
A glance at the daily news feed told Kris nothing. It was brief and very uninformative.
The port captain seemed to be expecting the Wasp; a berth had been reserved for them. Captain Drago quickly lost his smile at someone’s thoughtfulness.
The pier saved for the Wardhaven scout ship was between the Greenfeld battleship Fury and its sister the Terror.
Haystacks, meet the needle.
They had hardly docked when a lieutenant commander from the Fury was offering his captain’s compliments and inviting Her Highness Kristine Longknife to dinner in the admiral’s quarters of the Fury. Dinner was to be served immediately upon Kris’s arrival.
Gunny Brown reported that the commander had a Greenfeld Marine escort of sixteen “mean-looking dudes.”
Jack looked decidedly unhappy at the prospect of trusting Kris to local security. He didn’t look all that much happier when Kris invited him to bring along sixteen of his own line beasts.
With Penny and the colonel left behind on Kaskatos trying their hand at the civil-affairs business, Kris didn’t have a lot of her staff to pick from. She did add Chief Beni, not as a dinner guest but to apply his own magic tricks to seeing that neither Kris nor whoever she ate with were surprised by a bomb in the soup.
Kris promised the chief a good meal at her expense later.
The walk to the Fury’s pier was brief and educational. Kris saw no activity on the station other than the marching of heavily armed details hither and yon. Kris wasn’t surprised by the watchfulness of Jack and his Marines. What did surprise her was the extreme alertness of the sixteen Greenfeld Marines. They walked, rifles at the ready, heads on a constant swivel, as if patrolling in hostile territory.
Gunny Brown took that in and growled at his own Marines. “This is no place for toy soldiers. Loosen up, suck it up, and soldier.”
Despite the apparent expectations to the contrary, Kris arrived safely at the quarterdeck of the Fury. Waiting for her was the captain of the ship. More surprising was the admiral of the squadron, one Georg Krätz.
“Congratulations on your promotion,” Kris said, saluting him.
“I am not the only one who is finding the Navy conducive to my good health.”
Without announcement, Lieutenant Victoria Peterwald presented herself on the quarterdeck.
“You’re coming along quickly,” Kris said.
“I made lieutenant a month faster than you did,” the scion of the Peterwald empire said, preening. “Of course, I kept my nose clean and avoided embarrassments like a mutiny and missing ships movement.”
Kris shrugged. No doubt using your father’s Navy to suppress revolutionary tendencies was more career enhancing than helping Earth and six hundred planets break up without throwing a war into the mix.
If she had it to do over again, Kris wouldn’t change a thing.
The captain of the Fury dismissed himself, and Admiral Krätz led the way to his quarters.
Vicky’s eyes lit on Kris’s cane. “I see that last assassination attempt really got you good.”
“I notice that you’re still favoring your right leg from your last bomb incident,” Kris shot right back. “You really ought to have your sensor expert meet with my Chief Beni. I’m sure some of your gear could be made almost as good as ours.”
That Greenfeld was behind Wardhaven in some electronic technology was a sore point and put an end to conversation for a while.
Admiral Krätz’s quarters were quite palatial. Kris couldn’t help but notice that the door across from the admiral’s had LIEUTENANT VICTORIA PETERWALD stenciled on it.
Both doors had two Marine guards on full alert.
While the stewards served coffee, Kris asked the familiar questions. “How are your daughters doing? Last I heard, one of them wanted battleship duty because of a certain boy. Do you have the young couple on the Fury?”
“No,” the admiral said darkly, then took a sip of his coffee while eyeing Vicky over the cup.
“Not all our fleet is tied up to piers enforcing public order,” Vicky said, by way of explanation. “No matter what your Admiral Crossenshield may tell you, we do have a battle fleet on full standby if anyone should make the mistake of probing what is ours at this difficult time. I can’t say how strong the battle fleet is, but you may tell your intelligence admiral personally from me that it is larger than he thinks.”
“I will pass that warning along in my next communication with Wardhaven,” Kris said evenly, and set her coffee down before going on. “I have personally sat in on conversations with my great-grandfather the king and Admiral Crossenshield, and I can tell you that neither one of them has any but the gentlest of interests in the 103 planets in the Greenfeld Alliance.”
“A hundred and three, huh?” Vicky said, setting down her own coffee cup to better concentrate on Kris. “By that very number, you ignore our intense interest in planets just beyond the Rim of our space. Let’s say Kaskatos, for example.”
“I’m glad you brought that up,” Kris said. Both of the young women failed to fully suppress a smile at that lie. “My intention on going there was to check on conditions and deliver famine relief. As your intel reports have no doubt informed you, my ship was jumped by an in-system pirate ketch. When I landed to hand out food, I was attacked and left with no other option than to clean out the den of pirates and cutthroats I’d stumbled upon.” Kris didn’t flinch or blink as she laid it all on the line for Vicky.
“Are you aware Jackie Jackson was a major in Greenfeld State Security?” Vicky snapped. “How did you know that she wasn’t there under my father’s orders?”
So, Vicky wasn’t going to make it easy for Kris. The Wardhaven princess really hadn’t expected that she would.
“I made inquires about the conditions on Kaskatos before I entered the system. The answers I got back from my inquiries to Greenfeld data banks were as close to nothing as made no never mind. I’m sorry, Vicky, but I went in blind and found that everything that I intended to do or planned for only led me deeper and deeper into a mess.
“In the end, I did what I felt I had to do for people who couldn’t do anything for themselves. Jackie Jackson was a sick puppy creating her own hell. I ended that and am now only doing what I have to do to pick up the pieces.” Kris paused to see if Vicky had anything to say.
When she didn’t, Kris went on, choosing her words carefully. “Also, Vicky, the general commanding Greenfeld State Security didn’t live very long after I saved your father’s life. All the reports I have is that State Security isn’t in very good odor these days.”
“It isn’t,” Admiral Krätz said.
“It’s just that you’re doing that Longknife thing of shooting first and asking questions later,” Vicky said.
“And we don’t?” the admiral put in.
“We don’t have a lot of choices,” Vicky snapped at her superior.
The admiral raised an eyebrow. “I think the commander has just explained that she was in the same situation. How do we prevent just this series of events from happening again is, I believe, the reason you suggested I give this dinner.”
Vicky took a deep breath. “You are, as usual, Admiral, both correct and wise. In the heat of the moment, I forgot what you had so ably explained to me.”
“I believe dinner is ready,” the admiral said, standing. “I understand that we have quite a feast for you, Your Highness.”
The admiral had his own wardroom with china, silver, and linen on a solid oak table. The head and foot of the table were left empty. Kris sat directly across from Vicky. Jack faced the admiral. It seemed to encourage Kris and Vicky to talk freely.