Tommy had messaged her before boarding the
Bellerophon
five days ago. Being a thrifty, underpaid junior officer, his message went standby and had been bumped from the queue several times in its transit through two jump points from High Cambria to Wardhaven. Kris wondered if that was Tom’s way of ensuring he was well on his way before she could do anything.
Miss Pasley’s message had farther to go but had spent Kris’s money going faster. Tommy apparently had left the
Bellerophon
a bit more than two days ago. Which meant he’d arrived at Turantic late yesterday while Kris was passing social chitchat with a thousand of her father’s closest friends. Kris slowly munched one of Lotty’s high-fiber muffins while absorbing the time flow.
A second section was now a stellar map, showing the planets important to this drill. The
Bellerophon
’s trip from High Cambria to Itsahfine involved four jumps but only one stop, that at Castagon 6. The round trip from Turantic to Castagon was just two jumps. Wardhaven to Turantic was a three-jump trip along well-traveled trading lanes.
“Nelly, do me a full political workup on Turantic.” Until recently, human space was human space, and a study of the Society of Humanity supposedly told the tale. Growing up sharing a dinner table with her father had given Kris an early realization that what the high school civics teacher called United Humanity was full of factions that the Prime Minister regularly had to juggle to get anything done. Now those factions were independent associations, and star maps needed not just lines for shipping lanes but different colors to show where the customs inspectors lived and maybe, just maybe, a battle fleet might be making motions toward another color on the map.
She lit up Earth, the mother of this whole mess. The first two hundred years of human outreach had colonized the Seven Sisters, and then the forty-plus stepsisters, as wags named the next sphere. Nelly colored those planets green, the color of the Society of Humanity back before the Unity War, then immediately added in black the hundred planets that had made up Unity. NO, NELLY, THAT’S HISTORY. SHOW GRAMPA RAY’S UNITED SENTIENTS IN RED. The map changed; a lot of the black went to red, but so did some of the green: Pitts Hope, LornaDo. Surprise for Earth. The red also included the colonies Wardhaven had sponsored in the last eighty years. Still, the red and green were less than a quarter of the six hundred worlds now inhabited by humanity.
PUT PETERWALD’S FACTION IN BLACK. A fifty-world chunk of the Rim formed a dark cloud, centered around Greenfeld. It seemed to reach out to block Wardhaven from further expansion. Hamilton and its five colonies lay between Turantic and Peterwald’s holdings. THERE ANY BAD BLOOD BETWEEN TURANTIC AND HAMILTON? Kris asked Nelly.
ONLY THE USUAL TRADING RIVALRIES, the computer agreed. Kris eyed the wall screen, searching for how she and Tom fit in.
“Kris, you have a collect call coming in.”
“Who from this time?”
“Tommy.”
“Accept it!” Kris shouted, bouncing to her feet. Jack and Harvey were maybe half a second slower shooting from their places on the couch, the long night’s exhaustion forgotten. Abby sat quietly in the straight-backed chair she’d set in a corner. She might have actually gotten some sleep for all she’d contributed to the night’s conversations.
A section of wall screen changed to show the phone call. There was Tommy, looking disheveled, his skin so pale his freckles stood out like warning lights.
“Kris, I need help,” he started, no lopsided grin today.
And the screen went blank.
“Nelly, where’s the rest of the call?” Kris yelled.
“It was cut off at the source.”
“Where was he calling from? Rerun it!” Kris demanded. Nelly reran the call, freezing frame just before it cut off. Kris stared into Tommy’s eyes, trying to plumb them for fear, terror, newfound freedom. The face just looked tired.
“Talk to me about the call, Nelly,” Kris ordered.
“The header file has been damaged, apparently in an attempt to retrieve the call,” Nelly said. “The call was made from High Turantic Station about six hours ago, real time. The exact location of the phone is lost, but it was on the public systems in the station’s dock section.” A schematic of a standard, class E station appeared.
“Not much to go on,” Jack muttered.
“Six hours ago, Tom was on Turantic and needed help,” Kris snapped. “That’s enough for me.”
“Enough for what?”
“To get a search going,” Kris said, pacing the floor.
“Turantic is twelve light-years away. Six hours by priority mail,” Jack pointed out.
“So, call in some chits. You’re a cop, aren’t you? Get some of the brethren off their duffs and out looking for Tom.”
“Kris, we’re personal security. We don’t do kidnappings.”
“Your agency was all over the dopes who snatched Eddy,” Kris snapped, mad enough not to choke on the name of her six-year-old brother who died under a pile of manure.
“Eddy was our subject. Tom is not.”
“And would anybody snatch Tom if he hadn’t gotten too damn close to me?”
Jack’s face was a professional mask; no answer there.
“Nelly, get me Grampa Ray.”
Jack’s eyebrows raised at that, but he turned away and retook his place on the couch, folding his hands and eyeing Kris like she had some lessons to learn.
“Hi, Kris, what you doing up so early on a Saturday after a ball?” Grampa Ray smiled from a section of wall.
“I kind of have a problem, Grampa,” Kris answered, then filled him in. His smile worked its way into a worried frown as she told him of Tom. When she finished, he nodded.
“I remember him, a good young man.”
“He’s been my right arm too many times.”
“This isn’t going to be easy, Kris.” When a man like Grampa Ray said things weren’t easy, they weren’t. “Turantic isn’t part of United Sentients. They’re playing a coy game, holding aloof and avoiding commitments to any of the sides taking shape. Kris, a year ago, when we were all good citizens of the Society, I could make a phone call as a private person, and half of the cops on Turantic would be hunting for Tommy. Now, I’m a king,” Ray said ruefully, fingering his brow that at the moment was in need of combing, “and I have less leverage.”
Kris glanced at Jack. He was shaking his head, an
I told you so
look all over his swarthy features.
“We have an embassy there, don’t we?”
“Wardhaven’s business residency was renamed an embassy, but, hon, we’re all having to relearn a lot of stuff about separate and equal from the history books.”
“I’d appreciate it if you would call who you can and see if they have any way of getting cops out looking for Tommy.” NELLY, SEND GRAMPA A COPY OF TOMMY’S CALL.
Grampa focused on something offscreen. Kris could hear Tommy’s few words over the line. “I see.” Grampa frowned.
“If he hadn’t gotten messed up with one of those damn Longknifes, this would never have happened to a kid from Santa Maria,” Kris pointed out.
“He’s from Santa Maria. Then he’s not a U.S. citizen.”
Right! Santa Maria, halfway across the galaxy, hadn’t joined anyone, either. “He’s a serving officer on a Wardhaven warship,” Kris pointed out. “That has to count for something.”
“Some folks have been arguing that we ought to give dual citizenship in cases like that. This could get very mixed up.”
Kris nodded with understanding but kept Grampa hostage with her eyes. For the first time in her life, Grampa was the first to flinch away. “I’ll make some phone calls. There’s bound to be somebody who knows somebody who owes them a favor.”
“Thanks, Grampa.”
“Stay close, Kris. I’ll get back,” and Ray ended the call.
Stay close,
Kris reflected. If she did, would that help Tom? She weighed Tom’s prospects, hanging on the razor’s edge of what Grampa Ray maybe could do. She was in motion before she actually decided to act. There
was
no alternative.
NELLY, GET ME CAPTAIN HAYWORTH. The skipper of the
Firebolt
was at his desk aboard ship; he glanced up. “Lieutenant. You going to be late today? That ball go long last night?”
“Sir, a personal matter has come up. I would like to take that leave you offered yesterday.” Behind Kris, Jack was back off the couch. Harvey cleared his throat noisily. Kris had long ago learned that from an NCO, it was as close to a scream of disapproval as you got. She ignored them.
“Don’t see any problem; you’ve got the time coming. I was hoping you might use your backdoor access to get some Uni-plex for Dale to mess with, but we can survive a week without it.”
Kris glanced at the box from Grampa Al on her desk. She could drop it off when she went through the station. Then again, Uni-plex had almost killed her once. She was headed, unarmed and unaided, into someone else’s plan for her life. Might a wild card come in handy? “I’ll get you some next week, sir,” she promised. “See you then, and thanks for being so understanding.”
The Captain smiled. “You’re doing a tough job juggling a lot of stuff, Lieutenant, and doing it well. See you in a week.”
“And why are you taking leave?” Jack demanded as Harvey roared, “Just what do you think you’re doing, woman?”
Kris took a deep breath, full of familiar smells. This was the house she’d grown up in. Nuu House. The home of the Longknifes. They did what had to be done when there were no alternatives. Of course, she was headed off to a corner of space where
Longknife
just might be the word for
target.
Kris expelled the familiar air and took a step toward Jack, a first step down a dark, unknown path. She chose her words with care, no need to whip up a worse storm than her decision spawned. “I’m going to apply some personal oversight to make sure Tom doesn’t get lost in the shuffle.” NELLY, WHEN’S THE NEXT SHIP LEAVING WARDHAVEN FOR TURANTIC?
“Damn it, woman, are you blind?” Harvey shouted.
“You are walking into a trap,” Jack said softly.
I HAVE BEEN CHECKING CONSTANTLY SINCE LAST EVENING, Nelly said. THE FREIGHTER
BRISBANE’S BUSTARDS
LEAVES IN AN HOUR. THE LUXURY LINER
TURANTIC PRIDE
SEALS LOCKS IN THREE HOURS.
THANKS, NELLY. SEE ABOUT SPACE ON THE
TURANTIC PRIDE.
“Yes, Jack, I know I’m walking into a trap.”
Harvey threw up his hands. Jack stood his ground. “Then why go?”
“They caught Tommy in a trap he wasn’t looking for and, for crying out loud, had no reason to expect. He wasn’t walking, he was running away from those damn Longknifes. Still, he got caught in a net meant for me. Don’t you see? Tommy’s been turned into bait in a game he wasn’t prepared for and can’t survive. And yes, I pray to every god available that this bunch is smart enough not to leave him under a ton of manure with a busted air pipe like they left Eddy.
“Their damn trap was good enough to catch a poor kid from Santa Maria on holiday. I don’t think they’ve made a trap yet that can catch a major Nuu Enterprises stockholder, a Prime Minister’s daughter, and yes, damn it, a Princess of the eighty planets of United Sentients.
“They caught themselves a mouse. Let’s see how their little trap handles a madder-than-hell lioness.”
“Great sound bite,” Jack drawled. “Don’t you think they’ve thought of that, too?”
Kris shrugged, not amused by how easily he deflated her dramatics. “They haven’t got me yet. I doubt they’ll do it this time. There’s a ship leaving for Turantic in three hours. I’ll be on it.”
“You can’t do that,” Jack said.
“I’ll start packing,” Abby said, standing. “Harvey, I’ll need four self-propelled steamer trunks. I assume there are a few of them around this place.”
“I’ll get them, but I still say this is a bad idea.”
“You’re not coming,” Kris told Abby. “It’ll be dangerous.”
The woman turned to Kris, and a small needle gun appeared in her hand, aimed right at Kris’s heart.
“Where’d that weapon come from?” Jack demanded, stepping in front of Kris.
“I’ve carried a weapon since I was twelve,” Abby said, making said weapon vanish as smoothly as it had appeared. “Have you forgotten? I hail from Earth. You’ve heard of our quaint native customs, the drive-by shooting or gunning down every customer at your friendly, neighborhood fast-food outlet?”
Jack was no longer reaching for his gun as he edged closer to this surprise package. “Jack, please don’t come any closer. You look like a nice guy, and you’re probably well trained in hand-to-hand. I don’t have any of those fancy colored belts, but the kids I grew up with taught me how to survive on bad streets and to hurt you fast.”
Jack backed off a step, but his hand was out. “I’ll bother you for that weapon. No stranger goes armed around my primary.” Jack’s words were soft, but nothing hid the steel in them.
Abby eyed him; the moment stretched. Then Abby blinked, and the tiny weapon was again in her hand. She handed it to Jack and turned to Kris. “If my last employer had listened more to me than her overpaid security, she’d still be alive, and I wouldn’t be employed so far from home. You really should read my résumé.”
“My mother hired you.”
“That shouldn’t keep you from reading up on the woman standing next to you.” Abby tapped her wrist unit. “There, now your computer has it. Enjoy the read.”
“No time now. I’ll catch up aboard ship.”
“Fine. Now then, young woman, if you plan to come the enraged Princess . . . in something more than a fur bikini . . . you will need me. I will take care of your needs, and, trust me, I can take care of myself.”
“How good are you at dodging short-range rockets?” Jack drawled. Abby frowned at that.
“I didn’t know you’d learned of that attack,” Kris said, heading for her dressing room, Abby right behind her.
“I may be slow, but I’m not inept. Harvey,” Jack called after the retreating chauffeur, “bring up both of my bags.”