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  “I screwed up, ma’am. We of the Princess Royal screwed up. If you’ll give us a chance to straighten ourselves out, Admiral, we will do better.”

  “I know you will,” Kris said. “All of us, myself included, have got to get it through our heads that going off to mediate a civil war can be just as deadly as fighting it. Holiday’s over. Now we get ready to fight.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am,” Ajax said, and marched from Kris’s quarters.

  24

  Kris took a few moments to organize her thoughts after that little talk with her subordinate. She realized she should have had Captain Ajax order the Princess Royal’s navigator to establish a course and speed that would allow Intrepid to catch up to the rest of them without having too much more energy on the boat.

  When Kris called, Captain Ajax seemed delighted to provide the navigation support for the squadron. That left Kris to conclude that between securing nannies, mediators, and Secret Service for her staff, she’d failed to lay on the normal Navy staff that she needed.

  If we live, I learn.

  Twelve hours later, the Intrepid came zooming through the jump at just under thirty thousand klicks an hour.

  “We captured the crew, including the captain, and blew up the ship,” Captain Grayhorse reported.

  “As expected, they had gotten their reactor back up and were limping as fast as they could for the nearest jump. They also had reloaded what was left of their lasers. I let them take a swing at us, Admiral. Between our armor, their damage, and our evading, they only landed one hit on us. It didn’t even scratch the paint. You really have to love this new crystal armor.”

  He laughed. “No sooner did they fire than all hands were bailing out in their survival pods. It seems that they thought they had missed when they fired at the Princess Royal. When they saw their hit on us failed to do anything, they knew they’d blown it and all hands decided to cut their losses. I picked up the survival pods, then blew the Hephaestus to smithereens. If someone sends out a search for the Hephaestus and Poseidon, they won’t find so much as a scrap to tell the tale.”

  Kris considered that, then left orders for the Intrepid to rejoin the squadron when they reached midcourse flip over. Together, they could all began to decelerate toward the next jump.

  “Question is,” Kris asked Jack, “what is our course?”

  “Someone knew you were coming straight from Wardhaven to Greenfeld,” Jack said.

  “And likely that someone is on Ray or Crossie’s best-friend list,” Kris answered.

  “Seems like we might want to avoid the beaten path between Wardhaven and Greenfeld,” Jack offered.

  “Nelly, invite Captain Ajax and her navigator to join us. Also, ask her if she might want an elevator between her bridge and admiral country?”

  A moment later, an elevator door appeared on the bulkhead next to the door into Kris’s night quarters.

  “Jack, I don’t think that elevator will be permanent.”

  “Ya’think?” he said.

  “What’s on your mind, Admiral?” Ajax asked a moment later, without preamble, and certainly without any talk of permanent access between the bridge and Flag Country.

  “We need to get from here to Greenfeld without following a predictable path,” Kris began just as quickly. “I’d prefer not to pass through a system with a colony. No need to get mixed up in anyone’s fight, or worse, start one. We most definitely must not pass through a system occupied by the Grand Duchess’s forces.”

  Both the navigator and captain looked flummoxed.

  “You mind if I bring Nelly into this problem?” Kris asked.

  “Please do,” the navigator said.

  Captain Ajax just nodded. “I begin to see why you need something like your computer. When you lay out requirements that tight, it will take more than a human brain to sort through all the threads.”

  “Frequently,” Kris admitted. “I would prefer for you to address Nelly by her name.”

  Captain Ajax now plumbed the depths of puzzlement.

  “Captain, I have given testimony before human judges,” Nelly said. “I have saved Kris’s bacon more times than even I can count. Yes, I am a computer, but unlike your dumb associate, I can delve much deeper into what you humans do and think than anything but me and my kids can.”

  “Kids?” kind of fell out of the captain’s mouth, much like a frog in certain fairy tales.

  “Yes, I have made several children. Some have died fighting with their human so that others might live. Some have stayed with their humans on Alwa Station. Only Jack’s Sal is with me now.”

  Captain Ajax stared slack-mouthed and wide-eyed at Jack and Kris. Both nodded.

  “Nelly has been with me since my first day of school,” Kris explained. “I’ve upgraded her time and time again. To satisfy my aunt Seyd, a retired info warrior from the Iteeche War, we inserted a chip from Santa Maria into Nelly’s matrix so she could study it. You remember Santa Maria, that planet with a worldwide computer relic left by the Three? Anyway, I’m not sure who is studying who, but Nelly’s been arguing with me and cracking horrible jokes ever since.”

  “A real, live computer?” Ajax finally got her mouth around.

  “So it seems,” Nelly said.

  “Now, Nelly,” Kris said, crisply, “about the best way to get to Greenfeld without leading with our chin again?”

  The screens across from the conference table came alive. “I would suggest you take a seat,” Nelly said. “This is going to take a while.”

  “Because?” Kris asked.

  “We are on the only route that meets all your requirements,” Nelly answered.

  “Don’t you hate it when that happens?” Jack quipped.

  “Kris, you didn’t say we couldn’t use high-acceleration jumps or rpms on the hull. May I consider those options?”

  Kris pursed her lips. “I don’t want to risk getting lost in a bad jump, Nelly. Moreover, we are in popular space. I really don’t want to zoom through jumps without warning what’s on the other side to get out of our way.”

  “Understood, Kris, but I have one quick and pretty optimal course you might want to consider.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “There is a fuzzy jump in this system. If we hit it at two hundred thousand klicks and 31 rpms, it would take us well out of human space. Two more jumps at high speed and rpms, and we could start slowing down and jump into a worthless system just one slow jump out from Greenfeld. It has the one regular jump from Greenfeld and only the fuzzy jump as a second entrance.”

  “What’s a fuzzy jump?” the navigator asked.

  “Nelly?” Kris offered.

  “You need a Mark XII fire-control system to spot them, and most people don’t seem to notice them even when they have one.”

  “We have a Mark XII,” Captain Ajax said cautiously.

  “Nelly was the first to notice the fuzzy jumps,” Kris said, “and we use them to make fast trips across to the Alwa system. Beyond that, it’s pretty much classified need to know.”

  “Oh,” Ajax said.

  “Show us the course you propose,” Kris said. Nelly did so quickly.

  Ajax’s navigator whistled. “Those are long jumps.”

  “If you want to cross the entire galaxy, you need some seven-league boots,” Kris said.

  “Nelly, work with the P. Royal’s navigator to get your course good and solid.”

  “Do I have to drink poison when we’re done?” the navigator asked.

  “Likely before you finish,” Ajax answered her navigator.

  “Did I hear that the squadron wanted reassignment to the Alwa Station?” Kris asked.

  “It was on our dream sheet.”

  “This will likely cinch it for you.”

  “Thank you, Admiral,” Captain Ajax said, “for bringing us in on your cours
e selection. We should have an initial course and acceleration ready in a half hour, a solid course in one.”

  The navigator nodded.

  The two of them took the elevator down. The elevator did not vanish away.

  “You think we get to keep that?” Kris asked.

  Jack checked their night quarters. “And we’ve got the space back in our bedroom. I wonder who lost.”

  “Hopefully, it was a broom closet,” Kris said. “I dearly do not want any more morale challenges today.”

  “Are you hungry?” Jack asked.

  “Definitely, and, no doubt, Ruth will be hungry again, soon.”

  “Let’s eat.”

  25

  The Intrepid caught up with the squadron about the time they would have flipped and began decelerating. With the fuzzy jump now in their sights, they continued to accelerate. The Intrepid’s pinnace brought over its captives for interrogation.

  “Mind if I take care of our prisoners?” Jack asked Kris.

  “Have at them,” was all Kris had to say.

  At dinner that night, Jack brought Kris up to date on his findings. “The captain is a real hard case. He’s not talking and seems to be looking forward to being tortured.”

  “You plan to oblige him?” Kris asked, wondering if she should have set some limits on Jack.

  “Not if I can help it,” made her feel better. “There are a lot of others to talk to, and I’ll see if they give me a lead or maybe a handle on the skipper.”

  Kris left the subject at, “Then keep me informed.”

  The next day’s supper had little to add to the last. “I’ve started off talking to the lowest members of the crew. Gunners, engineering watch standers, electricians, and other maintenance workers. Most of them claim to know nothing about what was going on. They were looking for work, any work, when they hired on. What they did tell me makes me wonder about what’s going on in the Empire.”

  “What is going on in the Empire?” Kris asked.

  “Not a lot according to these guys. At least not a lot of work. They all say they took the job because they were desperate for work. According to them, there was absolutely none to be had.”

  “Are any Navy?”

  “That’s what is interesting. There are a few petty officers, but not so much as one chief. I think there may be one officer in the crew, but I’m letting him stew for a while. It’s interesting watching the others ignore him. Anyway, I don’t know how they got those old battlewagons away from the pier, or better yet, managed to get some shots off at us. It must have been amateur night every minute of the day.”

  Kris frowned. “That does say something about what’s happening to the Empire. Have you passed that along to our civilians?”

  “Yep. They asked to see the video of our interrogations. They say they may ask to talk to a few of them later.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t ask, but what’s it taking to get these types to talk?” Kris asked.

  “A decent meal,” Jack said.

  Kris let out a sigh of relief.

  “What did you think, that I’d torture them?”

  “I didn’t ask, and you didn’t tell me.”

  “Well, don’t worry, I’m getting most of what I need by just sitting across the table and listening. They seem in a hurry to talk.”

  “You trust what they say?”

  “I don’t trust what they tell me, but Sal has their quarters bugged,” Jack said with a wide grin. “We’re listening to everything they say. No one is coaching them before their interviews, and no one is checking out their stories afterward. The big topic is why we picked them up. I’ve got the impression that they expected to be either shot out of space or left to die in their survival pods.”

  “Ouch,” Kris said.

  “Yeah. I’m still trying to figure out what that tells me about this civil war.”

  “Nothing good,” Kris said. “Keep me informed.”

  It was the third evening when Jack brought a guest to dinner.

  “Kris, I would like you to meet Karl Spirelli, third officer on the Firebird.”

  Kris parsed the sentence and came away with way too many questions. She started with the first one that came to her mouth: “Firebird?”

  Jack tossed the question to Karl with a glance.

  “Yes, ma’am, Admiral, I mean. Everyone, including the captain, called the boat the Firebird. The other was the Typhoon. That seemed to be some kind of inside joke with the management. Management was what they called the captain and first officers of the two old battleships. I think among the senior management, I was the only one with Navy experience.”

  Kris scowled. “Yeah, I can see the joke. Me getting blown away by the Typhoon.”

  Jack shared the scowl with her. Karl looked ready to cringe and crawl under the table, but, more credit to him, he just stood there at something close to attention.

  Kris studied the man. He was clean-shaven, and his shipsuit looked recently washed. He wouldn’t be out of place among the officers of her crew. Interesting.

  “Did you know that your Firebird was squawking as Hephaestus?”

  “No, ma’am. As third officer, I was responsible for gunnery. When I served a bridge watch under way, that was not on the checklist I was supposed to keep an eye on.”

  Kris’s frown got deeper. The duties of an Officer of the Deck, especially under way and with the conn, were very specific aboard a warship. Every OOD worth his salt checked the captain’s standing orders but didn’t need a checklist. They knew their duties. “About this checklist, you sound like a Navy man. How’d it stack up to your normal duties?”

  “It was short and sweet, ma’am. A lot shorter than it should have been on a battleship. When I pointed that out, I was told in no uncertain terms that I’d signed a contract to do what I was told and the checklist was one of those things. Get with the program or get off the boat.”

  “That’s the second time you said boat,” Jack pointed out.

  The guy shrugged. “That was what management called the ship, and I got told pretty quick that I better change my ways, fast. Uh, ma’am, is there any chance we could eat? Breakfast wasn’t that filling, and this man here had me talking all through lunch.”

  “Sit down,” Kris said, and looked around. She spotted two lieutenants just finishing up their meal. “Mister,” she called to the two junior officers, although one was a woman, “would you mind getting the three of us trays? What’s on the menu?”

  “Hamburgers, burned and cold, ma’am, or some sort of stew. I can’t vouch for the meat, but I think the Sweet Pea is missing a few cats.”

  Kris was a bit taken aback by the joke. Would I have said that to a four-star when I was just a lieutenant?

  Oh, yes.

  Would I have been sharing the main wardroom with an admiral and had a chance to shoot my mouth off?

  Not likely.

  Kris laughed, and wished Grand Admiral Santiago luck with her next batch of recruits on Alwa Station. “Get us a little of both,” Kris said.

  As Jack settled Karl down in his seat across from Kris, he was shaking his head. “Longknife Navy,” he muttered, making it half a curse, half a four-letter word.

  “That Longknife Navy blew your battleships out of space,” Jack pointed out.

  “Yeah,” the former Peterwald officer said, still shaking his head. “What is it with your ships? I know we made hits, but nothing happened.”

  Kris considered several answers and chose, “Magic.”

  Karl raised his eyebrows, then shrugged. “You could have fooled me. Okay, you ask questions, I answer. Not the other way around. My mom didn’t have too many dumb children.”

  “Good,” Kris said. “So, how short was this checklist you had to follow when you were OOD?”

  “It was about half of what I expected to do on th
e bridge of the heavy cruiser Lomza.”

  “And you aren’t on the Lomza anymore because?” Kris asked.

  “They decommissioned her. Only sixteen years in the fleet, and they sold her out for scrap.” Karl got quiet; he glanced around furtively. “Some say ships like her were ending up in pirate hands before a welder’s torch ever touched them. Some say they were ending up in the Empress’s private Navy. Me, I can’t say anything either way.”

  Kris and Jack exchanged glances.

  Curiouser and curiouser.

  “So you ended up on the beach,” Jack said, encouraging the young man to say more. However, the two JOs arrived with trays of questionable culinary value. If the officers were eating this badly, what were the other ranks getting served?

  NELLY, AM I RESPONSIBLE AS ADMIRAL FOR THE LEVEL OF CHOW ON MY SHIPS?

  MOST DEFINITELY, KRIS. SHALL I WRITE UP AN INCIDENT REPORT AND PASS IT ALONG TO CAPTAIN AJAX?

  DRAFT IT, AND GIVE IT TO ME TO REVIEW.

  YOU DON’T TRUST MY TACTFULNESS?

  NELLY, I ACTUALLY DO, BUT I’M HAVING ENOUGH TROUBLE GETTING ALONG WITH MY FLAG CAPTAIN, AND IF THERE’S TO BE A MISTAKE, I WANT TO MAKE IT MYSELF.

  IF THIS GOES OVER LIKE A LEAD BALLOON, YOU COULD ALWAYS BLAME IT ON ME.

  ENOUGH, NELLY, LET’S DO THIS MY WAY. I WANT TO KEEP LISTENING TO THIS FELLOW.

  GREENFELD IS STARTING TO SOUND LIKE A REAL MESS.

  TELL ME ABOUT IT.

  Karl didn’t seem to find his food at all unsatisfactory. He took a big bite out of his hamburger and a slug of his bug juice. “No beer?”

  “You have beer on the Lomza?” Jack asked.

  “We had a beer ration sometimes. The Firebird had beer at every meal. That made for a happy ship.”

  “How’d it work for your gunnery?” Kris asked.

  Karl scowled. “I did have one mechanic who after lunch couldn’t put a screw in right,” he agreed.

  “What happened after the Navy beached you?”

  Now it was Karl’s turn to get red in the face. “I shouldn’t have been beached. I had good fitness reports. I was within a millimeter of being selected for commander, then, pow, I’m on the outside with not so much as a severance package. My girl dropped me, and I couldn’t find work anywhere.”