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  Mac paused to gaze out the window. “I’m glad they asked for you and not me. I don’t know how I’d try to find the bottom of that mess.”

  “Well,” said Kris, “as Ruthie has occasionally left me wondering, somewhere in all that poop, there has to be a cute little girl.”

  Mac snorted. “I remember changing a few of those diapers.”

  “Okay, we don’t know much. How much can we trust what Crossie is sending us?” Kris asked.

  Now Mac just shook his head. “I never know what game he and Ray are playing. I didn’t before, and the last two years since Ray came back without Rita only seems to leave me more in the dark. Maybe they don’t know anything more than they say they do. Then again, maybe they’ve got their fingers in that pie somewhere I can’t see.”

  He scowled. “Watch your own fingers, Kris. I don’t need to tell you that this is not a safe situation. By the way, your dad asked me to ask you if you’d leave Ruthie behind with your mom.”

  “He did, did he? He’s not willing to ask himself?”

  “I think he expected us to have this little talk and that maybe I’d have more influence than he has.”

  Kris took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “I know what it’s like in that household, Mac. I grew up in it. I will not leave my child in that mess.”

  “And Jack’s family?”

  “He hasn’t suggested we do that. I don’t think he’s any more willing to leave Ruth there than I am to let my mom get her claws into her chubby bottom.”

  “You’re headed into a risky business,” Mac pointed out.

  “And I’ll just have to bring me and Jack and Ruth back out when we finish with it,” Kris said, flatly.

  “Okay. I can tell Billy I asked.”

  “Yes, you can,” Kris agreed. Interesting, no one was offering to either fold Ruth into Honovi’s growing brood or ask Gramma Trouble to take another turn changing diapers. Kris joined Mac staring out the window.

  Do I want to leave Ruth here?

  Here where someone can kidnap her? Not really, she answered her own question.

  You’ve got to be crazy to take her into harm’s way.

  No doubt about that, but then, I’ve got a pretty good record for making it in and out of hell on a regularly scheduled bus route.

  Isn’t it interesting how the very people who want me to leave Ruth behind are so eager to push me and Jack out to floss the lion’s teeth.

  Kris made up her mind.

  “Mac, when this is done, I want that desk job. I want me and Jack to push papers, and I want to go home to take Ruth to soccer games and birthday parties and be like a normal family. You hear.”

  “I hear.”

  “I’ve been Ray’s old warhorse long enough, charging out for whatever mess he wants cleaned up. After this, it’s someone else’s turn.”

  “Is there anyone else like you?” the field marshal asked.

  “I don’t know, but you better find someone good enough, you hear?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  “Nelly, have you gotten a data dump of everything available?”

  “And likely a few things they didn’t want us to have,” Nelly answered.

  Mac rolled his eyes at the ceiling.

  “Then I’ll be on my way,” Kris said.

  An hour later, she was back up on the Princess Royal, and none of her guards even had to break a sweat.

  Not a bad day.

  20

  Four days later, the Princess Royal led the Intrepid, Courageous, Furious, Resolute, Defender, Steadfast, and Monarch in a column as each fired their deorbital burns, dived toward Wardhaven, then blasted for Jump Point Beta.

  For Kris, the situation was strange beyond words.

  Every one of these ships bore a name from the fleet that Kris had commanded on Alwa Station not so long ago. That it had come to pass that Wardhaven felt the names were open for new construction told Kris what her father and great-grandfather must have thought about her chances out there.

  She hadn’t bothered to tell them differently. Not when it would involve admitting that the original ships had been damaged beyond repair, their Smart MetalTM drained into holding tanks, and the ships rebuilt from the keel up to new and better designs.

  No need to scare them worse.

  But beyond the names of the ships, there was more. Kris’s squadron was headed for the jump point that had, so recently and so long ago, coughed up six huge battleships. At least then, Kris had thought they were huge.

  They had threatened to bombard Wardhaven down to bedrock if the planet didn’t surrender unconditionally to them. Now Kris was heading through that jump point to help the man who had likely sent those ships and issued those threats.

  If she succeeded, she would save Henry Peterwald’s Empire. If she failed, it would continue to tear itself apart.

  Heads who wins? Tails who loses?

  Kris held Ruth close and bounced her gently.

  “Do you have the strange feelings I have about this mission?” Jack asked.

  Kris nodded. “Grampa Ray has handed me some lousy assignments, but this one has got to take the cake.”

  At a fleet acceleration of one gee on their way to the jump, Kris divided the squadron into two divisions of four, then spread the ships out in a loose formation with five thousand kilometers between them.

  That done, she ordered them to Evasion Plan 1, but only for five minutes. Without being asked, Kris then allowed them a breather to mend and fix. An hour later, she implemented Evasion Plan 2.

  Ten minutes later, the Monarch messaged Kris for permission to fall out, so she suspended evasions to let a whole lot of people mend and fix.

  Two hours later, the Monarch held together for fifteen minutes of Evasion Plan 3. It was the Intrepid that called “uncle” that time.

  “Nelly, how are the reaction motors holding up?” Kris asked.

  “Not as well as they should, Kris. I know I told them how thick to make the pipes. They shouldn’t be having this much trouble.”

  “What are they trying to get away with?” Kris asked.

  Nelly showed a schematic of the battlecruisers. The reaction system on each one was different. Skippers were trying to get by on what they thought they needed. Clearly, they didn’t think they needed any of that Alwa Station stuff.

  They were learning. Even as Kris watched, pipes were thickened up.

  “Are all the ships still at Condition Able?” Jack asked.

  “Why yes, I do believe,” Kris said, a cheerful grin on her face.

  “You think you ought to tell them?” Jack asked.

  “Each captain is responsible for their own ship. Let’s see who figures it out first,” Kris said, settling into a chair and letting Ruth stand up in her lap. She managed a few seconds before collapsing with a happy giggle.

  Kris was prepared to give her ship captains three hours to solve their problems on their own. Ninety minutes into that count, Captain Ajax called.

  “Admiral, I intend to go to Condition Baker before we do any more evasion testing.”

  “Very good, Captain,” Kris said.

  “I’ll need to shrink admiral’s country.”

  “No problem,” Kris said with a grin. Maybe it was for Ruth. Maybe it wasn’t.

  After Ajax rang off, Kris said, “Nelly, do a check to see if all spaces give up the same percent of area.”

  “Are you thinking that she might be taking more from you than the rest?”

  “Not sure, Nelly. I know with all my space, I can spare more than most. Just give my people warning before the bulkheads start moving in on them.”

  Ten minutes later, the bulkheads did move. Jack checked. Kris had lost all her sleeping quarters and her head was the minimum needed. Kris’s day quarters were about a quarter
their original size but neither she nor Ruth had their elbows joggled.

  “I can afford this,” Kris said. “A good move by Captain Ajax. Nelly, check on nanny and Secret Service space.”

  Nelly didn’t have to; the whole batch came knocking at Kris’s door. It took her a moment to explain Condition Able, Baker, Charlie, and Zed. “We become a smaller target and a tougher nut to crack,” she finished. “We need to get all of you battle stations.”

  She had Nelly get them high-gee stations. While the ships had held one gee all through the evasion drills, the bouncing around hadn’t been too bad. Even at one gee, Evasion Plans 5 and 6 were going to involve hard knocks.

  Nelly pulled high-gee stations out of Kris’s spaces, reducing the size of her day quarters. A moment later, Nelly reported, “Captain Ajax just noticed I’d shrunk your spaces more. Her Defense Coordinator suggested you might be setting up high-gee stations. Ajax ordered everyone into them. She’s also passed the word to the squadron.”

  “Kris, you are evil,” Jack said.

  “No, I just prefer my people to solve their problems on their own.”

  “All hands, prepare to go to Condition Charlie,” the 1MC announced.

  “Nelly, do our mediators know how to survive this?”

  Nelly hardly took a moment before replying, “The Command Master Chief is showing them the ropes, Kris.”

  “Better and better,” Kris said.

  Jack just shook his head.

  The squadron held thirty minutes of Evasion Plan 5, then another half hour of EP 6. There were no requests from anyone to break off.

  When Kris decided they’d had enough, she called her skippers up on net. “These Evasion Plans may save our lives someday. They’ve sure saved mine enough times. Now that we’ve worked the kinks out, please have your helms keep these ready to load on a moment’s notice. I have no idea what we will face in Greenfeld space. Carry on.”

  Kris invited Captain Ajax and several of her division heads up for dinner in her flag wardroom. It was the same as her day quarters, done over with a Smart MetalTM table, chairs, white linen, silver, and china. The talk went long into the evening as Ajax and her team now listened to Kris and how they did things on Alwa Station. Kris made herself the butt of most of her jokes and pointed out what had worked and what hadn’t.

  “It’s all there in the reports. They make scary reading, but you’ll likely want to read them.”

  As Kris and Jack were getting ready for bed that night, Nelly broke in. “Your reports are the hottest items in the ship library. Every officer from ensign to Ajax has downloaded them. Some of the chiefs, too. It’s the same on all the ships of the squadron.”

  “I hope they benefit from Alwa’s hard-learned lessons,” was all Kris said.

  21

  That they hadn’t learned enough became apparent all too soon.

  They were heading for Greenfeld, taking the most direct route and avoiding any planets held by the Grand Duchess. That order to avoid Vicky came from Grampa Ray and Crossie. It bothered Kris, but it seemed logical.

  You call on the senior first, then the junior. Since Vicky’s dad had been the one to ask for mediation, it seemed best to give him the first hearing.

  It all seemed right and proper.

  Unfortunately, it made Kris’s course all too predictable.

  They were coming up on a jump, making a good twenty-five thousand klicks an hour. It was fast, but hardly unsafe. They’d already sent the comm buoy through to alert traffic on the other side to stand clear for them. Kris never lost the sense of wonder at how ships leapt from one bit of space, across dozens of light-years, to appear somewhere else.

  Kris was seated in a chair at her conference table, facing the screens as they approached the jump, bouncing Ruth in her lap and letting her mind wonder over how she was going to live through this latest of Grampa Ray’s batty ideas.

  “Nelly, how long would it take you to project a staircase from here to the bridge?” she asked.

  “We are directly above the bridge,” Nelly replied. “But wouldn’t an elevator down be faster?”

  “It depends on how fast I want to get there,” Kris said slowly, puzzling over the idea and wondering why she’d gotten it just now.

  “Kris, you aren’t going to start injecting yourself into other people’s business, are you?” Jack asked. “Micromanagement is a sin you have avoided so far.”

  “Are you hinting it’s one of my few?”

  “When you were a boot ensign, did you enjoy having someone looking over your shoulder?”

  Jack had a point. Kris hadn’t been a very good subordinate. There had been that incident that wasn’t officially labeled mutiny. It was only the worst of many problems she’d caused her bosses.

  “You may have a point,” Kris said to Jack, as the Princess Royal raced through the jump, leading the rest of the squadron.

  “Ships off to port,” Nelly almost shouted.

  One glance at the screen showed Kris the ships. They had no battle revolutions on their hulls, but their laser turrets were out of train and aimed at the jump the Princess Royal had just come out of.

  Even as she took that in, Kris moved to put Ruth down on the table. “Nelly, high-gee station for Ruth. Now!”

  And just as quickly, the conference table had a tiny high-gee station wrapping Ruth in an armored embrace.

  Kris hadn’t taken her eyes off the screen. The ships’ turrets were turning, trying to train in on the fast-moving Princess Royal. Several turrets were slow. Some were not.

  Captain Ajax had wisely stored the crystal armor forward. It began to glow as lasers hit.

  “Why aren’t we returning fire?” Kris demanded. No one answered.

  “Nelly, that elevator,” and Kris’s chair fell through the floor, forming itself into a swing as it plunged down. Kris grabbed the suspension lines and felt her hands burn as they extended under her grip.

  Kris landed within two paces of the gunnery station.

  It was empty.

  Around Kris, on the bridge, people stood in shock and surprise, frozen in that first moment when peaceful people realize that someone is trying to kill them. Really trying to end your life.

  A glance at the main screen showed the two ships, still trying to train lasers on the Princess Royal. In the foreground, the battlecruiser’s bow glowed brighter. Steam bled where she’d taken a hit on bare metal.

  Kris slid into the vacant Weapons station and began issuing orders.

  “I have the conn. Helm, execute Evasion Plan 3. Defense, go to Condition Baker now. Charlie as soon as you can.”

  Kris left the others to come out of their shock and do what she’d ordered while she and Nelly conversed at the speed of thought.

  NELLY, TARGET LEFT FORWARD BATTERY ON LEFT SHIP. RIGHT BATTERY ON RIGHT.

  DONE.

  “Fire!”

  The forward batteries discharged their twelve huge 22-inch lasers, half at each ship. Without Kris telling her, Nelly had targeted the lasers in pairs. Three pairs of 22-inch lasers sliced through ice armor that wasn’t meant to face guns of this caliber. Beams lanced deep into steel and flesh.

  “Forward batteries, reload. Helm, flip ship.”

  “Flipping ship,” the woman at the helm said, and began to rotate the Princess Royal. Kris swallowed a “Faster, damn you!” The ship was responding a lot slower than the Wasp, but the hostile ships were in a reload cycle that had to be longer than the battlecruiser’s.

  The helm bungled the flip and didn’t stop until they had gone past the fifteen degrees the lasers could correct for.

  “Nelly,” Kris snapped, and her computer took over the helm station as the panicked helmswoman found that her own hand on the wheel no longer did anything.

  “Fire aft, right and left,” Kris ordered and the aft lasers emptied their capacit
ors.

  “Flip us again, Nelly,” Kris said, more to let the rest of the bridge crew know what was going on than to tell Nelly. “Get us nose armor on to those bastards.”

  I must clean up my language, but not now.

  “We’re at Condition Baker,” Defense announced. “Going to Condition Charlie.”

  Behind Kris, whoever had had the conn finally hit the General Quarters Klaxon.

  “General Quarters. General Quarters. All Hands, to battle stations,” finally began to sound through the ship.

  Kris eyed the forward batteries. They were coming up quickly to full.

  “Comm, send to enemy vessels, ‘Drop your reactor cores or we will finish you.’”

  “Sent.”

  Captain Ajax raced out of her in-space cabin, zipping up her shipsuit. “I have the conn,” she announced.

  “The admiral has the conn,” said the man in the command chair, jumping up.

  “And her computer has the helm,” the helmswoman got out before she snapped her mouth shut.

  “Admiral, you have the conn,” from Ajax said there would be a day of reckoning.

  One of the battleships, hard-hit and spinning out of control, dumped its reactors either upon Kris’s orders or in hope of saving their lives.

  The other one kept on doing what it was doing.

  “Nelly, fire all forward batteries on the battleship with loaded reactors.”

  The forward lasers sent six pairs of 22-inch lasers at the already hurting enemy ship. It did not last through the broadside.

  It began to come apart as sections of hull were cut clear away. Then something exploded deep within. In little more than the blink of an eye, the ship was a glowing ball of gas.

  The other ship was drifting in the general direction of the jump as the Intrepid came through.