Kris Longknife 13 - Unrelenting (20 page)

“Let’s pass them along to some real colonists,” Kris said, smiling at the dirtside team.

“But even before we do that,” Pipra put in, “they have to have some time off. If you’re doing twelve on and twelve off,
you got just enough time to get some chow and some sleep before you’re back on the job. With one day off a week you can’t do much more than roll over in your bunk and go back to sleep.”

“Now I’m seeing why you grabbed my elbow,” Admiral Benson said.

“Yeah. With one of your locals shadowing one of my experienced hands, we might be able to change our workforce to twelve and twelve for a week and then a week dirtside. What do you think?”

“It would be a start to get locals working on the moon when you get some more fabs,” the admiral said.

“I’m thinking that,” Pipra said, “and maybe with all the automated farm equipment we’ve shipped dirtside, we can get some colonials up here, too.”

“And if my yards aren’t spinning ships out that we don’t have Sailors to crew, we could put some of my skilled technicians down in your moon fabs, mills, and foundries.”

“That’s what I’m seeing,” Pipra said.

“Somebody tell me that getting colonials and Alwans up on the moon, supporting production, will be a good introduction to their becoming reserve Sailors on the ships I hope to get next year, or year after next,” Kris said.

“If we do this right, you’ll have them sooner,” Benson said.

“Okay, let me sashay over to the colonials and see what they think about this,” Kris said, and, taking Pipra and Benson by the arm, she walked them down the room to where Ada was busy with her team.

“Ada, have I got a deal for you,” Kris said.

The colonial first minister looked away from a screen Kris could now see and smiled. “I was expecting you. Have you seen how this Black Plan is changing?”

“Nope, I’ve been up to my burning ears in people talk. People and Alwan talk, that is.”

“Yeah. I figured as much. There’s no way for the folks you have up there to handle all that’s showing up on this plan.”

“Can you spare us some of your more technically inclined colonials and Alwans?” Kris said, going straight for the heart of things.

“You’re going to use us as some sort of Christmas turkey, stripping the meat off and leaving just the bone, from the looks of it,” Ada said, not at all happy.

“That isn’t the way I’d put it,” Kris said.

“How would you put it, then?” Granny Rita came into the conversation, clearly supporting Ada.

“If we’re willing to increase butter so that there are more goodies for everyone dirtside,” Kris said, holding up one finger, “and we’re willing to make all this butter available for people willing to work on our growing, high-tech economy, I’m thinking that there’s a lot more turkey meat to go around, and no one gets left with the scraps.”

“No turkey has four legs,” Baozhai from the treasury pointed out.

“No, but if we have twice as many turkeys on the table, you do have four legs,” Kris countered.

“The Green Plan,” Ada said.

“The Green Plan rolled into the Black Plan,” Kris said. “If we can grow the base, we can get more of everything for everybody. More Red. More Yellow. Who knows, maybe we can keep the Green side growing, too. But we need people for all of this. People willing to learn how to make the things we all want. We can’t drive the manufacturing side with just the people they have.”

Kris paused for a moment, then glanced at Pipra. That was enough encouragement. She took up the tale of her overworked crews who needed some serious downtime. Preferably down on the planet in dirt they could call their own.

“I was wondering when that would come up,” Ada said.

“Do you have a problem with a second center of human presence on Alwa?” Kris asked.

Ada made a worried face. “I don’t know. From what I hear, the land down there is just begging for a plow. I expect some of our youngsters will pack it in and head down there. I’m not sure how their folks will take that. Kids are a built-in labor force for farms.”

“Things are changing,” Kris said.

“So you keep telling me,” Ada answered. “I’ve seen what happens to old birds that get in the road to stop it. I never thought I’d be one of ’em.”

“There are a lot of changes coming,” Pipra said. “If you think you have it bad, imagine me and mine trying to see that everyone gets all the lollipops they want for the work they’re doing for this princess, or admiral, or whatever hat she’s wearing today.”

“We’ll need to juggle a lot,” Kris said.

“The harvest will come in next week. Thanks to all the nice gear King Raymond sent, it won’t be the backbreaking work that takes every last person every last moment of daylight. I never thought I’d say this, but I can get a few kids moving up to your fabs even now. And some Roosters. Some have been with us since we arrived and are comfortable with our tech. Which isn’t to say any of us are up to the tech level you are. It’s up to you to see that they don’t break anything.”

Now it was Pipra’s turn to make a face. “Yeah. I hear a lot of talking, but whether it’s just pie in the sky or will deliver the goods on schedule is another matter.”

“No time like the present to find out,” Ada said.

“I’ll leave you all to figure this out,” Kris said, and slipped out of the circle.

This is delegation, right?

She rambled up the other side of the table to where Abby stood watching others make changes to the Black Plan. Someone would do something, it would cascade up and down the visible plan. People would study it critically, then either cancel it, or look for another one.

This was happening on all three sides of the table as well as both wall screens.

“Are these connected?” Kris asked Abby, waving at the tabletops and walls.

“Nope. Each group is doing its own thing. Maybe in the end they’ll all have the same plan. Or maybe they’ll be way off. Then we’ll look at the different ones and see what we like and don’t like. Either way, we win.”

“Hmm,” Kris said.

“Not bad for a maid, don’t you think?”

“Not bad for a hotshot production expediter,” Kris said. “I knew you had it in you. You had to pull all those things I needed out of those steamer trunks just when I needed them.”

Kris enjoyed a smile at fond, if desperate, memories.

“I had a lot of help figuring out what went into those trunks,” Abby allowed.

“But you were the one that did it in the end.”

“I guess so. Oh, sorry I wasn’t there this morning to get a shot at that shooter.”

“Jack and I were hardly dressed for company,” Kris said, trying not to blush.

“Compromising positions do leave you open.”

“I wasn’t compromised. I was with my husband.”

“You managing?” was so vague a question that Kris needed time to think on it.

“I am,” Kris finally said. “And those that don’t like what I’m doing can take a long walk out a short airlock.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“So, are things as hard as Pipra says they are among the workers?”

“Maybe worse,” Abby said. “You and her can live in your own little world of charts and reports. I got to go out and talk to the worker bees. They got a problem, I get sent to see it in the flesh. I get to share their coffee breaks with them. I like this job. Get to meet lots of interesting people, people you’re driving mighty hard, Kris.”

Now it was Kris’s turn to make a pained face. “And if the bug-eyed monsters show up tomorrow?”

“We’ll be in trouble,” Abby admitted. “But if they don’t show for a couple of months, you might well be doing their job for them.”

Kris gave Abby the look she reserved for Commander Sampson and her ilk.

“No, I’m not talking mutiny or open rebellion. But I am talking folks who are dog tired and need a rest. Or folks that are nose up against the candy-shop window and feeling locked out. You’ve got so much change coming at these people that it’s a crapshoot as to where it all falls apart first, second, and last, Kris. You need to get out more.”

“The last time I was out of my bubble, I got shot at.”

“Yeah, but maybe if you’d been out of your bubble a month ago you’d have spotted this problem sooner and headed it off at the pass.”

Kris shrugged. “Not too long ago, I was chasing down
Sampson, fighting the remnants of the bug-eyed monsters we beat the first time, and making friends with our fine feline friends.”

“So your problems have to stand in line, and some of them get pissed and cut to the front.”

“Cutting I don’t mind. Shooting, that’s another matter,” Kris said with a dry chuckle.

“Yeah,” Abby agreed.

After a few quiet moments, Abby went one way to tell a production type that his latest change was boneheaded. Kris kept moving, smiling encouragement and doing her best not to get drawn into any of the arguments raging around the screens and tables. Any hope that all of these efforts would end in one harmonious plan was rapidly going up in smoke.

Kris found Admiral Furzah at her elbow.

“This is an interesting development,” she said.

“Interesting in what way to you?” Kris asked.

“Many of my people, not all, I assure you, and maybe fewer of late, but many of my people would have used the shooting incident to land the warriors. Your Marines. Land them and take control of the situation with force. You, instead, seek to calm the fire by feeding it. Interesting.”

“We have found that landing the Marines often has the effect of tossing gasoline on the fire. Instead of making it smaller, it makes it huge. Haven’t you found that out?”

“Yes, we have. That is why I say that fewer would do that of late. Even we warriors, at least we older, grayer warriors, have noticed that.”

“What I am attempting to do here is to smother the fire. To take its air away.”

“But do you have time for that?”

Kris scowled. “That is the problem. But if we keep driving the worker bees to produce but give them little honey, they get less interested in their work. They make mistakes. Maybe intentionally. More likely just from exhaustion.”

“Yes. It is interesting that our greatest powers now are the ones that looked to their industry and their people more than just building up their warriors. Now they have more people, more industry, as well as more warriors. Strange how that happened,” the feline said slyly.

“Yes. They took the time and now they have the power. Now, if the alien space raiders will just leave me time for this.”

“Yes, that is the heart of the problem.”

Kris continued to rove the room. She had hoped that the plan would come together. Instead, the discussions in the room drew more heated. She actually had to impose herself between two women before they came to blows. Then two men.

“Okay, we’ve done enough for an afternoon,” Kris announced to the room. “Let’s take a break. Go to your own corners. I mean that. Those of you having problems with others, get out of each other’s sight. There are plenty of places to eat on the
Wasp
and the station. Get out, get some food in you. We will continue in three hours. Next time, we’ll use the Forward Lounge.”

I THOUGHT YOU DIDN’T WANT TO SCARE THE DINERS, KRIS.

I DON’T, NELLY. YOU’LL JUST HAVE TO COME UP WITH A CLOSED OFF, SOUNDPROOF ROOM IN THE LOUNGE.

YES, KRIS.

31

So
Kris found herself going to supper in the
Wasp
’s wardroom, and being followed by half the Navy from the meeting.

“Kris, we’ve got to talk,” Admiral Kitano said.

“I’m next,” Admiral Benson added.

“I guess that makes me last,” Captain Drago said.

“You’ll all wait while I get a message off,” Kris snapped.

“I’ll get you something to eat,” Captain Drago offered, and led the other flag officers off while Kris settled at a table.

“Nelly, get me Phil Taussig.”

“Phil here,” came a moment later. “We’re about to shove off. You’re going to miss telling us good-bye.”

“Can you stand down?” Kris asked.

“You don’t want us gone?”

“Sorry, but I may be asking you to take the lucky winners of a raffle contest for a few slots home.”

“I heard you’d been shot at and were rethinking things. I didn’t know it would impact me.”

“I’m afraid it does.”

“Okay, I’ll tell folks to stand down and give half the crew shore leave. How long do you think this will take?”

“A couple of days, maybe,” Kris admitted. “I’m putting several things on the table. If I’m lucky, you may become a whole lot less appealing. I won’t know until a few of my chickens come home to roost.”

“I like my chicken fried,” Phil said. “If you’re done, I got some fast shuffling to do.”

“Longknife out,” Kris said.

Captain Drago returned with a salad, of the sort that relied heavily on Alwa leafy greens, nuts, and berries. He also had a tall glass of chocolate milk.

“You are a darling,” Kris whispered, reaching for the milk.

“So I’ve been told,” the
Wasp
’s skipper said with a smile, and headed back to get himself something. Admirals Kitano and Benson settled in on either side of Kris.

“Kris, you’ve got to put a stop to this,” was Kitano’s opener.

“Why?” Kris said, getting a nice forkful of greens headed for her suddenly ravenous tummy.

“We’ve lost another buoy at that crazy system. Three of the eight are gone.”

“When did this happen?”

“Likely a week ago, but I only got the word as you were closing down that meeting. I figured I should tell you first rather than dump it out there in front of everyone.”

“Thank you,” Kris said. She munched her salad as she mentally called up the system. Four suns in crazy orbits. Several dead, rocky planets in the middle of that mess. Several huge ice and gas giants well back from the suns following totally weird orbits. Why would three aliens take a sudden interest in that system?

A rallying point,
she thought, answering her own question.

Ice giants provided plenty of good reaction matter. Likely some had interesting moons. Just what a space rover might call a rich environment.