Kris went back to her quarters and watched as more spaces vanished or were moved around in her ships.
As supper approached, Phil ducked out to talk to Captain Drago for a moment, then both of them presented themselves.
“Admiral, you are invited to a dinner in your honor in the Forward Lounge,” Captain Drago said.
“Dinner in the Forward Lounge?” Kris said.
“The uniform is dress blues with all your medals and decorations,” Phil added.
Kris gave them both the evil eye. “What’s going on here?”
“We will see you in an hour,” Drago said.
“Don’t disappoint us,” Phil added, as the two left.
Kris found her day cabins suddenly emptying as Penny and Masao also vanished away.
“Jack, Nelly, what’s going on?” Kris demanded of the only two who were still with her.
“Nothing mutinous, my love,” Jack said, grinning his most lopsided grin ever.
“So you’re in on it. Et tu, Nelly?”
“Your Latin pronunciation is atrocious, Kris, but yes, I do know, and no, I won’t tell you.”
“Honey, you just have time to shower and get dressed,” Jack said, bowing and ushering Kris toward their night quarters. “Shall we?” was not a question.
“So, just time to shower and get dressed. Not a second for something else?” Kris said with a sly grin.
“Be a good girl, and we shall see.”
“But you always say I’m best when I’m naughty,” Kris said.
Jack sighed. “Naughty and nice, in one long, tall package.”
So she was.
50
Captain Drago and Commander Phil Taussig were in dress blues as they appeared to greet Kris and Jack as they came from their night quarters, exactly one hour later and not a second sooner.
“An escort?” Kris said.
“What with all the modifications, I wasn’t sure you could find your way to the Forward Lounge,” the Wasp’s skipper said.
NELLY, YOU’RE NOT PUTTING IN THAT YOU COULD GUIDE ME ANYWHERE. WHAT’S UP?
KRIS, THIS IS A THOROUGHLY HUMAN MOMENT. I’M OBSERVING AND KEEPING MY MOUTH SHUT, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
This is going to be a very strange evening.
Despite the report to the contrary, they easily found their way to the Forward Lounge.
“Atten’hut. Admiral on deck,” greeted them as they entered.
For the first time in her life, Kris didn’t immediately shush those offering her this honor. She was too waylaid by what she saw.
The Forward Lounge had been converted into one huge wardroom. As far as she could see, officers stood at their linen-covered tables, china and silverware before them. Every surviving officer, even some who looked pretty banged up, were there. There were even a few Ostriches, doing their best to stand to attention with the humans.
Someone tapped a glass, and they began as one to sing, “For she’s a jolly good fellow.” The song went on; someone had added stanzas that would never be appropriate for children but seemed right at home among her victorious warriors.
Through it all, Kris just stood there.
Maybe her eyes did mist up a bit, but it must have been a flaw in the life-support system. Some irritant in the air, no doubt.
It must have been. Beside her, Jack was having the same problem.
The song ended with a rousing cheer, and Kris began to make her way to her usual head table. Her progress was slow. Every ship’s captain and a lot of their senior division heads were along the main aisle and they wanted to shake her hand. Even Captain O’dell was there with her collection of female officers and four Alwan gun captains who had survived the fight.
Kris got a chest bump from one of them. It was a gentle one. At least gentle enough not to crush ribs.
It took her a long time to get to the head table, but waiting for her there were not only Penny and Masao but also President Almar of Columm Almar and Prime Minister Gerrot of the Bizalt Kingdom.
They greeted Kris with a bow, and Kris returned it from the waist.
Again, Zarra ak Torina stepped forward to translate. Her harness today was red with golden buckles and spangles.
“We are glad that you live to meet us again,” President Almar said as the room fell quiet, again in response to someone’s tapped glass.
“We all are glad to meet you again,” Kris said.
“You have won a most wonderful battle,” Prime Minister Gerrot added.
“A lot of people have won that battle. And many of them are not here to celebrate this victory with us.”
“Yes. Yes,” President Almar said. “Thus it is always. Good young felines die for the homes of their mothers and the graves of their foremothers. We can only offer you our humble thanks that you, who have no homes or graves here, have done us a service we could not do for ourselves.”
“We did what our duty to all sentient life required,” Kris said.
“Yes, so you have told us,” Almar agreed. “But we must offer you tokens of our gratitude, even if they are but minor tokens. They are ours to give, and we give them to you.”
The president looked to her right and two cats, tawny gold coats marked off with the same red-and-gold harness as the translator, came forward. One carried a long black pike with silver-and-jewel inlays along the finely worked point, the other a large sword, its two-handed grip wrapped in gold filigree and studded with sparkling jewels.
Almar stepped forward and took the black-handled pike. “A feline is never without her weapons,” she said, and where a moment ago had been a softly furred hand, now five long claws sprang forth. “However, we learned quickly enough that a good pike could outreach the sharpest claw. Among our people, the Colnan Halberd with its long reach and its sharp blade has defended us from many an attack. In the last two hundred years, few have been honored with the gift of a Colnan Halberd by proclamation of the Congress of Columm. Today, we hope you will accept this from us.”
She handed the ancient weapon to Kris. Kris accepted it with a bow and a “Thank you.”
The room cheered. Kris raised the halberd high so all could see it. She twisted it so that its sharp edge flashed in the light. When the applause slowed, she handed it off to Jack. He accepted it with a bow and stood beside her, the Colnan Halberd at attention.
Kris did the handoff to Jack because Prime Minister Gerrot was coming forward and motioning to the sword bearer to approach as well.
The Prime Minister cleared her throat and spoke. “Among our people, the most ancient of honors is to join their king in the charge. We hope you will allow us to bestow on all of your officers the honor of being Members of the King’s Charge. We ask also that you allow us to bestow on the captains of your ships the honor of Commanders in the King’s Charge.”
“I gladly accept these honors in their names,” Kris said, wondering where this was going and why there was one sword bearer still standing off.
The Prime Minister’s tail twitched, and the sword bearer came to stand beside her. “My king has bidden me to offer you her highest honor. She wishes to raise you to King’s Sword Bearer and Commander of the King’s Charge.” The Prime Minister bowed. “In the thousand years of our recorded history, we have no higher honor.”
The sword bearer presented the sword to Kris, handle first. She withdrew it from its gold-and-bejeweled scabbard and flourished it above her head . . . careful not to slice the overhead or dent the blade.