Vicky was in a sedate, red cocktail dress. Kris had seen the dress in the online catalogues, and online it was in black and white. Sedate. Informal.
With Vicky’s looks and figure, there was no way that sedate stayed staid. Certainly not when the dress was hot cherry red.
Of course, Kris had seen Vicky in her wilder days on New Eden. Compared to the painted-on affairs Vicky wore then, this looked downright dowdy.
But then, on New Eden, she hadn’t walked into a roomful of young sailors and Marines.
It wasn’t the admiral who needed to order “As you were,” it was the lieutenant.
With just a hint of a nod from Jack, the LT and Gunny were on their feet. Jack stood, too, to signal the admiral and his shadow toward Kris’s table. They smiled as soon as they saw Kris and made their way to her.
The LT and Gunny stayed just long enough to be introduced to the admiral and Vicky, just long enough to accept his compliments on a day well done and for the young Marine officer and the old Gunny to thank the admiral for helping them avoid storming so well fortified a target . . . and for the admiral to insist it wasn’t anything big.
The LT left to get drinks for the admiral and Vicky. Gunny went to join the table where Command Master Chief Mong held sway, and Kris was asked to explain how things had really gone down at the N.S. tower that noon.
She did, making it clear to the Navy types present that being on the receiving end of 18-inch battle lasers should be reserved for other battleships that were designed to play in that league.
Not that they paid her any attention.
The admiral laughed as Kris described hiding under a desk that had narrowly missed reducing her to jelly. “But you yourself admit that you were in armored battle suits. All you had to do was clamp down your visor, and you had plenty of air to breathe.”
“So how come my ears were popping,” Jack pointed out.
“You should talk to your Wardhaven procurement people,” the admiral said without pausing in his laughter. “Something must be substandard.”
Kris had been at enough tables with high-powered politicians to know that the elephant here only wanted to hear how cunning he was and be thanked. Having survived the day, it was no skin off Kris’s nose to give him what he wanted.
“Well, I admit to being glad that my Marines didn’t have to storm that tower with all its autocannons and machine guns,” Kris admitted. “Vicky, did you see the hole in the ground your admiral made. Someone’s going to have to remap that lake.”
“No question about that,” Vicky agreed.
Rear Admiral Georg Krätz beamed in satisfaction.
“So, tell me,” Kris went on, “what happens next?”
“That will be very interesting,” the admiral admitted.
“Very complicated,” his lieutenant said, sipping her beer.
“Maybe, maybe not,” her superior said. “Have you ever visited one of the Navy colonies?”
Vicky shook her head.
“There are two of them, I think,” the admiral said. “They are colonies set up by the Navy. When I retire, you don’t think I want to raise chickens with just any bunch of neighbors, do you. No, I want to know I’ve got people I can count on. People I like. My kind of people.”
“So the Greenfeld Navy has set up planets for their own people to put down stakes on?” Kris said, more surprised than she wanted to admit. There was a lot Wardhaven didn’t know about Greenfeld.
As far as Kris was concerned, if she was the only one who found out about it, Admiral Crossenshield could get comfortable living in the dark.
“You got it in one.” The admiral laughed. “Who said Longknifes are dumb. Anyway, I think Port Royal will make a great addition to the collection of Navy colonies.”
“And N.S. Holdings won’t object?” Jack asked.
“There is no evidence that N.S. Holdings ever had any interest in this planet,” the admiral said with a sly grin.
“Not after the tower got turned into a pond,” Vicky said.
“Yes, yes. No evidence at all. That woman was claiming just this afternoon that they had filed a claim on this planet. We have finished our search of the records, and there is no such claim,” the admiral said with a grin.
That left Kris wondering. Had there been no such record, or was there no such record now?
NELLY?
I HAVE NO IDEA, KRIS. THAT’S MY STORY, AND I’M STICKING TO IT.
JUST MAKE SURE YOU DO STICK TO IT.
Kris turned back to the conversation. The admiral was describing some of the benefits of having Navy colonies. “You turn loose enough old goats, and it’s bound to get interesting.”
“You can’t all raise chickens,” Jack said.
“Oh no, there are those who raise cows for meat and cows for cheese. Some actually like to plow in the dirt and grow fruit and vegetables and things. No accounting for tastes even after thirty years with the fleet,” he said, distastefully.
“There wouldn’t happen to be any heavy industry on these planets?” Kris asked.
“God forbid,” the admiral said, raising his hand to elevate the pledge. “Besides, if you have spent your life around heavy weapons and high energy, you need something peaceful in your old age. Yes, maybe there is some light industry. Something to make toys for good-little-girl and -boy grandchildren. Anything else, no!”
NELLY, CALL UP THE SURVEY WE MADE OF THIS SYSTEM.
I HAVE IT, KRIS.
DIDN’T I NOTICE AN ASTEROID BELT? ONE RICH IN ALL KINDS OF METALS?
YES, KRIS. IF SOMEONE WANTED TO ESTABLISH A MAJOR NAVAL PRESENCE AND HEAVY-CONSTRUCTION FACTORIES, THEY HAVE EVERYTHING THEY NEED FOR IT OUTSIDE OF ANY STRONG GRAVITY WELL.
DO THE OTHER NAVAL COLONIES HAVE SUCH RESOURCES?
KRIS, I DON’T HAVE ANY PLANETS IN THE GREENFELD ALLIANCE THAT ARE LABELED NAVAL COLONIES. IT MAY BE THAT THEY HAVE OTHER NAMES, LIKE THIS ONE WILL LIKELY STAY PORT ROYAL. EITHER THAT, OR THEY HAVE AVOIDED OUR DETECTION. THEY ALSO AREN’T ON THE ITEECHE MAP THAT I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO HAVE.
THANK YOU, NELLY.
The conversation had taken a dark turn. Jack had pointed out that there were people on the planet who must know what was going on.
“Yes, and your Lieutenant Pasley has done a great job of building the evidentiary case against them and their crimes. Tomorrow, we will bury the merchant sailors they murdered with full honors. I expect there will be a lot of new filled graves around them. My Commander Fervenspiel is presently seating court-martials to hear the cases based on your lieutenant’s evidence.”
Kris nodded. Jack threw her a look. Kris made sure her face stayed carved in stone.
Inside it was different. PENNY, ARE YOU THERE?
IT’S GOOD TO HEAR FROM BOTH OF YOU.
HUH?
DO YOU TWO KNOW YOU BOTH JUST CALLED ME, KRIS, JACK?
NO, I DIDN’T, echoed in Kris’s head in both her and Jack’s voices. Getting the hang of Nelly and her kids’ net was still a work in progress.
SO, TO WHAT DO I OWE THE HONOR OF THIS CALL? AS IF I DON’T SUSPECT.
I UNDERSTAND THAT YOUR EVIDENCE IS BEING USED BY THE GREENFELD NAVY FOR COURT-MARTIALS.
YOU COULD SAY THAT, KRIS. I TEND TO SPELL THEM KANGAROO COURT.
IS IT THAT BAD?
IT’S NOT AS BAD AS IT WAS WITH THE PIRATES ON THE STATION. THEY AREN’T JUST LINING PEOPLE UP AGAINST THE WALL AND SHOOTING THEM. NOT QUITE. THE SLAVE OVERSEERS AND DRUG-PLANTATION MANAGERS ARE GETTING THEIR DAY IN COURT. WELL, FIFTEEN MINUTES. THEY CAN FACE THEIR ACCUSERS. LOOK AT THE EVIDENCE I’VE GATHERED. I GUESS THEY ARE PRETTY OPEN-AND-SHUT CASES, KRIS.
IT IS AGAINST GREENFELD LAW TO TRAFFIC IN SLAVES, PENNY.
I KNOW, I KNOW, KRIS. IF WE WERE BRINGING THEM UP ON CHARGES, WE’D PROBABLY GET TO THE SAME BOTTOM LINE. IT’S JUST THAT THE TIME FROM THE READING OF THE CHARGES TO THE VERDICT TO BEING TAKEN OUT AND SHOT IS LESS THAN AN HOUR. IN SOME CASES A WHOLE LOT LESS THAN AN HOUR.
KRIS, BACK HOME, WHEN I WAS GROWING UP, WE HAD THIS MINISTER WHO LOVED, EVERY YEAR, TO PREACH ON HOW WE SHOULD PRAY NOT FOR JUSTICE, BUT FOR MERCY. WELL, IT LOOKS LIKE WE’VE GOT JUSTICE HERE, BUT NOT AN OUNCE OF MERCY.