Mike Shepherd - Resolute

L ieutenant Kris Longknife's footsteps echoed off the walls of the space station. Kris had expected High Chance to be bustling with business. Instead it looked like a tin can, rinsed and ready to be dumped in the nearest recycle bin.

There was no sign of a welcoming committee from her new command Naval District 41. No sign of anything alive.

''They told me it was an independent command,'' Kris half whispered to herself.

''Did they mention it was solitary?'' came from behind her.

Kris turned. Lieutenant Penny Pasley-Lien had been very quiet on the trip out to Chance. Penny was recently a bride and only slightly more recently a widow. Kris measured Penny's words for joke or serious, and found them balanced on a knife edge.

''At least there's no sign of an attack,'' said First Lieutenant Jack Montoya, in full battle armorand paranoia mode. Now of the Royal United Sentient Marines, Jack formally had been in Wardhaven's Secret Service. The exact circumstances of his change in service were something Kris did not want to think about.

His uniformed presence at her elbow served as a too-present reminder that even though Great-grampa Trouble was well over a hundred years old, he was still very much trouble. Jack's M-6 assault rifle tracked his eyes as he surveyed the empty station. ''No sign of anything,'' the suddenly-a-Marine concluded.

Kris had had enough of this blind man's or woman's bluff. ''Nelly, please access the station's security system.''

Nelly was Kris's pet computer. A half kilo of self-organizing circuits wrapped around Kris's shoulders. Since the last upgrade, Nelly was plugged daintily and directly into Kris's brain. She was also worth about half of what this station cost. Maybe more, since this station looked much worse for its lack of occupation.

''Kris, I can't,'' came back, almost plaintively.

''And why can't you?'' Kris demanded.

''Cause somebody turned this station off at the switch,'' Chief Beni answered as Nelly got out a more accurate explanation that boiled down to the same. Nelly actually sounded huffy as she finished well after Beni.

This confirmed a growing suspicion that Kris's electronic tech whiz Beni and electronic tech miracle Nelly were developing a sibling rivalry. Just what I need.

But she'd needed Beni's technical wizardry for the last three months during her Training Command assignments. And she'd need him even more at Naval District 41. From the looks of things or lack of things she couldn't afford to lose anyone.

And life without Nelly was unthinkable.

As Kris was learning to do of late, she sidestepped the thornier problem and faced the immediate one. ''So where is this switch?''

''That way,'' both the chief and Nelly said. The chief was a bit slow to point since Jack had him in full space armor. Nelly flashed a light at the alley beside The Dragon Queen's Chinese Take Out among the midstation shops.

Like everything else, it was boarded up.

Kris led her crew from the station's Deck 1 with its usual gray carpets and unusual decorations. Just about every square inch of wall was a painting. The station looked like an art museum. Or maybe art studio. The paintings ran the full breadth of art history from primitive to Impressionistic. Kris's mother might have bought some.

Even the dim alley Kris led her three associates into looked like an artist's day at the zoo.

It was hard to think of Jack as her subordinate for reasons that were becoming clearer every time the Marine first lieutenant gave her an order. And she'd learned at OCS never to consider a chief as anything less than God. Beni had weakened his case for divinity by failing to locate that bomb on Tristan and just barely spotting the one on Kaylia in time. Still, Kris was none the worse for the two assassination attempts, but she was definitely persona non grata in Training Command.

Hopefully, Naval District 41 would go better.

The elevator was in a blandly gray space that still stank of garbage. Jack looked like he wanted to test-ride it, but Kris got to the button first, punched it open, and led right in. She took position at the back, daring Jack to haul her out.

Jack eyed her for a second like he wanted to toss her over his shoulder and lug her back to Pride of St. Petersburg. He apparently thought better of it as Beni punched Three. Nelly announced the command deck was on three. They took off, Penny standing quietly in her own corner, seeming so much smaller than the beaming woman who said ''I do'' to Tommy such a short time ago.

The ride progressed in fits and starts, with I-told-you-so glares from one Royal marine. Kris stared at the ceiling, something she was getting very good at, until the elevator bumped to a stop.

The doors hung up halfway open.

Kris leaned over to peer around two male heads eyeballing a large open space dimly lit by one flickering light. Passageways headed off in various directions, some poorly lit. Others dark. Everything was painted a standard Navy gray.

Except for a splotch on the far wall.

''Looks like blood,'' the Marine lieutenant snapped. ''Beni, why don't you have your weapon out?''

''Yes, sir,'' the chief said, drawing his service automatic.

''You Navy types keep back,'' Jack said to the senior officers present who were craning to get a look over his shoulder. ''Beni, cover me,'' and the Marine slipped through the door in full-assault mode.

Since his OCS had been abbreviated to just a Gunny Sergeant showing him how to wear the uniform without embarrassing the rest of the Corps, the Secret Service must have included SWAT drills in Jack's earlier training. The guy did look deadly and determined.

Kris figured now might be a good time to pay attention to his concerns. She pulled an automatic from the small of her back. It looked standard Navy issue. But she was one-of-those-damn-Longknifes. Its magazine held three times the normal load of 4-mm darts.

Penny drew her own automatic, identical to Kris's. It had been a wedding gift, one of several Kris hoped would make Penny and Tom's life around her safer if not saner. Silly Kris, she hadn't wrapped a single gift for blowing up a battleship.

Kris swallowed survivor's guilt for the forty-eleventh time.

Penny had not taken her eyes off the stain as she checked the safety on her automatic. ''You sure that's not rust?''

''Navy, I told you to keep your heads down,'' Jack bit back as he tried to check every direction at once. His M-6 snapping from one hallway to another as he tried to check every direction at once.

Chief Beni wiggled his growing gut through the stuck door. Training Command chow had been very good to him. He did keep his automatic at the ready sort of. He frowned at the wall and its mottling. Ignoring the Marine, he sauntered over to it, dipped his pinky in the offending matter, smelled it, tasted it, and then looked up.

''Yep. It's just water and some rust.''

''It kind of looked like that,'' Penny said, her voice half-distracted. ''Tommy would have been able to tell at a glance. He was good at things like that.''

Kris reached over to rest a gentle hand on Penny's shoulder. ''Yes, he was.''

''Well, thank all the gods in space it was just a bit of poor maintenance,'' Jack muttered at full volume. ''You can come out, Lieutenant, Your Highness, Commandership. I hope you keep not needing the Security Chief you so eminently ignore.''

If Kris followed every instruction, order, or bit of advice Jack was authorized to give her and that she was required by regulation to obey, she'd never set foot outside her bedroom at Nuu House on Wardhaven. Some Naval career that would be.