“I don't think there was any chance of my learning this from Dad. I remember stopping in the hallway outside a meeting he had with one of his admirals. That admiral was mad. I'd never heard anyone talk like that to Dad. Not talk like that and live to tell of it, anyways.”
“An admiral was mad at your dad?” Jack said.
“Yes. I got to thinking about it as you were planning how to deploy your ships. Admiral Krätz's Battle Squadron 12 originally had a division of cruisers and a squadron of destroyers with it, but they all were left at home. A cruise this long was considered too much for the smaller ships. But here you are, running around with corvettes thousands of light-years from any port. And you're planning on using them in ways no battleship could possibly match.”
“And the admiral was mad how?” Jack asked. His voice was suddenly devoid of any tint of emotion.
“The admiral was shouting that six big battleships had been wiped out by a bunch of mosquito boats because Dad ignored that admiral's professional judgment that battleships needed a decent escort.”
At Kris's elbow, there came a shudder. Kris turned just in time to see Penny shiver and turn pale. The look she gave Vicky would have fried a more sensitive person in place.
The young lieutenant's mouth opened, then clamped shut. Penny turned and fled the room.
“What's wrong with her?” Vicky asked.
“I commanded those mosquito boats, Vicky, and the skipper of my flag was Penny's husband of three, four days. He died saving her life.”
Kris paused to see if she'd gotten any reaction from the Peterwald scion. Her mouth actually did fall open, a bit. Her eyes widen, a little.
Kris went on. “Our mosquito boats were hurriedly built, using dumb metal. You know, the Smart Metal
TM
that can only change its shape two, maybe three times. Our fast patrol boat was venting its air to space, holed in I don't know how many places. I ordered Nelly to seal the boat. If we'd had more time, we might have also arranged to have the metal unpin Penny's husband, but there wasn't any time.”
“A hard choice,” Vicky whispered.
“The kind of choices we'll be making a lot of in the next few days.”
“You knew this, but you, your crew here, still saved my dad.”
“There was no way for us to know for sure that Peterwald was behind those battleships. And the assassins had arranged for it to look like I was involved in their plot to kill your father,” Kris said, her words flat as she spat out the story of how even the supposed powerful could find themselves trapped by duty into doing what they'd never do by choice.
“Imagine if humanity were all balled up in a vicious war,” Kris went on, “Greenfeld against Wardhaven. Nobody winning, everybody dying. And then imagine these horrors popping out of some jump point. A fine mess we'd be in.”
“Yes. I guess so. I ought to go apologize to Penny.”
“I wouldn't do that just now,” Kris said. “Unless you know some magic words that will raise the dead and make it all better, I really don't think there is anything you can say to Penny at the moment. Why don't you and I go see if Cookie has any fresh-made bread? Maybe we can wheedle some old sea story out of him that will tell us who he really is.”
“You have the strangest people around you,” Vicky said.
“Yes,” Kris said, eyeing the young woman beside her, “and I'm only now learning the half of it.”
36
The old cook did indeed have some cranberry bread fresh from the oven. He even had butter, scrounged from one of the restaurants being off-loaded along with most of the boffins.
What he didn't have was any sea stories he was willing to share with the two young women. He smiled cheerfully at their request and excused himself to watch over his dinner preparations.
The
Wasp
was changing around them even as they walked its passageways. The skipper was now sporting a Navy blueand-gold uniform with a lieutenant's two stripes, but he was still the captain to everyone Kris met. Another reason not to try to change what everyone was used to.
The
Wasp
itself shrank as shipping containers were cut free from their hold-downs on the ship. After threatening to hurl all the finely decked-out containers that held not only quarters and restaurants but also research labs and tons of equipment into the gas giant they were orbiting, Captain Drago relented and agreed to winch the boxes over to one of the freighters.
No one was very happy about letting those running back home do it in the fine quarters they were giving up. Still, there were fond hopes that the shipping containers would be waiting for the
Wasp
to come home, too, load back up, and head out for exploration again.
That slim handhold on a future that was as good as the past seemed to make it easier for people to face the unknown ahead of them.
The freighter that rendezvoused with them also brought along sixteen more antimatter torpedoes, so Kris was glad of the visit at least as much as the departing hands were glad for the use of the cargo containers.
Kris and Vicky stopped by Iteeche country to bring Ron up to date on what the humans had decided to do. It turned out he was already up to speed. Whenever Kris had talked to her own captains or the admirals, Nelly opened his communications link.
“So you are going to war for these people we have never met.”
“Is that something the Iteeche would never do?” Kris asked.
“Never. I do not think anyone could get the Imperial Mind to turn that way. I do not think the Imperial counselors would ever permit such a thing to even be discussed outside of chambers. We would prepare for our first encounter with these homicidal aliens, but we would never rush out to meet them. Not like you have chosen to do.”
“So you think Kris is wrong,” Vicky said.
“My chooser taught me to think like a human, twisted though that is. Even if you are wrong, I think you are magnificent. Is that twisted?”
“No,” Kris said. “Just very human.”
“Are you committed to swim this course?” Ron asked.
“I'm still hoping we can get them talking to us,” Kris admitted.
“Hmm,” was all Ron said.
Four hours later, only two hours behind schedule, the
Vulcan
announced that its work there was done. The Hellburners were operational, and the squadron was good to go. The muster of personnel requesting a trip home topped out at fewer than a hundred; no ship was left in any danger of being undermanned.
The freighters, repair ship, and three courier ships headed for the first of the jumps that would take them back to Santa Maria. They carried The Word to the rest of humanity that a small squadron of their own was about to do battle against unknown but probably impossible odds in defense of a race of aliens they had yet to talk to.
The
Hermes
popped out of Jump Point Delta. She'd seen nothing of the aliens in the last system the
Hornet
had jumped from. That was a relief.
Now Kris settled into her battle station on the bridge of the
Wasp
at Weapons. She tightened her belt as the ship began its acceleration to fifty thousand kilometers per hour and aimed for the first jump. Three jumps would be fast and risky, leaping before they had any chance to look where they were going. The last one, if the maps were still accurate, would put them one small jump away from the final jump the hostile aliens would make before they descended on the bird people's system.
From one jump away, Kris's fleet could peek through and make sure the hostiles were not yet in the next system. If the aliens had beaten the humans there, Kris's plan would have fallen apart before she even began it.
The team had invested quite a bit of time trying to figure out an alternative battle plan if that happened.
No one had come up with anything that sounded at all good.
With luck, they'd just get there before the hostiles did.
The first two jumps went fine. The third jump, the one into the system where they'd slow down and take a careful look through the next jump to see how things were, didn't go so well.
“We're through,” Sulwan announced from her post as navigator. Now her usual cutoffs and tank tops had been replaced with a blue ship jumper sporting a lieutenant's two stripes.
“We're where we want to be,” she quickly added, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Once again, they'd taken the risky jump and not had to pay the price for it.
“I've got activity in the system,” Chief Beni reported.
“What kind of activity?” Captain Drago demanded. He still sat in the captain's chair even though his blue ship jumper also showed only two stripes.
“Give me a moment,” the chief snapped.
“I wish the professor was here,” he muttered under his breath.
“My children have been analyzing the video and audio take,” Nelly announced. “It uses the same strange encryption system as Taussig's aliens. We are trying to translate them into pictures we can see, but this may take time.”
“The hostile emissions are coming from a stationary source,” the chief reported. “There are no hostile ships in the system. Just one reactor.”
“Where?” Captain Drago said.
“That small planet slightly sunward between us and our next jump point.”
Behind the
Wasp
, the rest of the fleet poured into the system. PatRon 10 was now augmented by the courier boat
Hermes
. Lieutenant Song had won her battle duty. Kris hoped she would survive her wishes. Admiral Krätz insisted that the Greenfeld squadron, by right of it being double the size of the other contingents, should lead the battleships. No one had argued with him.
Maybe being in the lead had encouraged him to go where the other admirals intended to go. He had followed Kris through three jumps.
Now he did not follow her toward the next jump.
“Hey, if our aliens have a small outpost here, maybe we can talk to them,” he announced with cheer that would have struck no one as sincere.
“We have a deadline to meet in the next system,” Kris pointed out.
“But you always said you really wish you could talk to them. Well, here's a few of them. Let's see if we can get them to talk to you.”
“I think the admiral is hoisting you on your own petard,” Captain Drago said.
“And I am very highly hoist,” Kris said. “Captain, if you will, set a course for that occupied planet. Chief Beni, tell me everything you know about it as soon as you know about it.”
“It's not going to be easy, Your Highness. We don't have all the resources of the boffins to call on.”
“Don't I know,” Kris said. “Give me what you've got, Chief, and give it to me quick.”
37
The planet had an atmosphere, of sorts. The chief suspected you could almost breathe it. “It's got oxygen and nitrogen, but there are all kinds of nasty things like sulfur and other irritants.”
“I don't intend to breathe it,” Kris said.
“Right,” the chief said. “There's some water, but it's got a high acidic content. More likely than not, if you dip your little toe in it, you won't have a toenail left. Maybe no toe.”
“I got the message, Chief. I'll pick somewhere else for my honeymoon.”
“Fortunately, she has plenty of time to find someone to share it with.” It sounded like Jack, but it was on net, and Kris ignored it.
Sulwan turned to Kris. “Is there any chance that this could be one of those planets that they stripped of its air and water, then polluted?”
“Chief, can you spot any evidence of previous civilization on this rock?”
“Nothing that I can see, Kris, but if the air and water are this acidic, it might have eaten away at a lot of building materials.”
“So we're left to guess. Nelly, get me the admirals,” Kris said.
“Do you have any plans for contact?” Kris asked Krätz.
“I thought you were the one with all the plans,” was his reply.
The Krätz Kris had grown to know and like on Chance was long gone.
“I think the solution to our problem is easy,” Admiral KÅta said. “We land an assault team and take some prisoners. How large can this outpost be?”
“If it were us down there,” Kris said, “my chief thinks there might be fifty. Probably no more than a hundred. But these people seem to need less personal space than we do. There could be ten times as many aliens down there. Maybe fifty times.”
“But they have no space weapons,” Krätz said. “Surely, seeing eight huge battleships over them will make them be reasonable. It's not like that lonely little ship that chose to take on your
Wasp
. We are battleships.”
Commander Taussig of the
Hornet
cleared his throat. “Compared to the ships who gave chase to us, your battleships look kind of dinky.”
“They would be fools to test us,” the Greenfeld admiral rumbled.
“Whose assault team do we put down?” Kris said.
“Your Marines are the most combat experienced,” Krätz said.
“Against people who can shoot back,” sounded like Vicky's voice.
Krätz turned purple. Everyone else seemed not to have heard it.
Kris went on. “Admiral KÅta, Admiral Channing, do you have Marine detachments aboard?”
“We do,” came from both of them.
“Would you care to share a drop landing and reconnaissance mission with my combat-experienced Marines.”
“It would be an honor,” said Admiral KÅta.
“Don't mind if I do,” said Admiral Channing.