“I’m sending it back to Santa Maria with the Mercury. Santa Maria has a major research center devoted to trying to unravel the mystery of the Three alien races who built the star jumps. That looks like a good place to handle the further examination of what we have here.”
The newly Imperial admiral from Greenfeld glowered at Kris. “And what is to keep those ships and their cargo from vanishing before they ever get to Santa Maria? How will we know that they have not been hijacked off to some secret U.S. base where no one but Royal experts ever look at them and never tell us a word about what they find?”
At that, the room exploded with words.
13
Kris allowed herself a deep sigh; she hadn’t seen that one coming.
This voyage had its problems, but everyone had stayed focused on why they were there. The alien encounter had thrown them a wild twist. They had come looking for surprises and had, up until a second ago, been doing a fairly good job of juggling the strange.
Then again. The Fleet of Discovery hadn’t had anything to fight over.
Silly me.
Now we’ve got our familiar baggage on the table, and it’s back to business as usual.
The Greenfeld admiral stayed on his feet as the room boiled around him, then he raised his voice to boom above the racket. “I intend to detach my battleship, the Terror, to escort the Constant Star. That will make sure some ‘pirate’ doesn’t make off with it and its cargo.”
At that, the room really got noisy.
Admiral Channing shot to his feet. “So it can vanish into one of Emperor Harry’s secret bases. No you don’t. I’m going with it.”
The Helvitican Confederacy had held a vote to see if they should join King Raymond’s United whatever. Grampa Ray had lost resoundingly. Kris figured the Confederacy didn’t much like what Grampa Ray was doing.
Then again, they hadn’t even bothered to vote on joining the Greenfeld Alliance. That was understandable since Chance, the last planet to join the Confederacy, had just barely avoided being violently taken over by a Peterwald.
Kris’s help and a lot of spilled blood had left Chance free to choose its own way in human space. They’d chosen the Helvitican Confederacy and, it seemed, the Confederacy remembered why.
Kris held up her hands to try to gain some quiet to think. “Hold it. Hold it. HOLD IT.” The volume of her voice jumped as Nelly jacked it up artificially.
The room quieted down though it was nowhere close to silent.
“Okay. I see we humans have a trust problem. Admiral Krätz, I can understand your wanting to make sure the Constant Star gets where it’s going. I want to make sure it gets where it’s going.”
Admiral Kōta jumped in. “And where might that be?”
“Santa Maria,” Kris snapped. “Specifically, the Institute for Alien Research.” Kris knew of the place. It had been established almost as soon as Grampa Ray got back from that lost colony. For the last ninety years, it had been humanity’s cutting edge at researching exactly who and what were the Three alien species who had built the jump points across the galaxy. Two million years ago, they had vanished.
On Santa Maria, the Three had built some sort of adult learning center. When they left, they forgot to turn it off. Apparently, the artificial intelligence running the place had gone senescent in the two million years during which it had no students. What it would have done to the several million peaceful citizens of Santa Maria when it discovered them was something Kris didn’t want to contemplate.
Grampa Ray and a handful of veterans from the recent Unity War had been there, thank heavens, when the AI and the Santa Marians discovered each other. As Grampa Ray liked to say: “One supercomputer. One company of Marines. Betterthan-even odds for my side.”
“The Institute for Alien Research has the best human minds available for unraveling aliens,” Kris said. “Most of your governments have universities with visiting professors at the Institute.”
“Isn’t it run by a Longknife? Ray’s sister?” Vicky said.
“Aunt Alnaba transferred to the efforts on Alien 1,” Kris said. “I think a professor from Earth has taken her place.”
“Dr. Ernst Kanaka,” Professor mFumbo put in. “A very good man. Wrote the paper about what we think we know about the Three’s power system.”
“And what happens after the wreckage reaches Santa Maria?” Admiral Kōta asked.
“I honestly don’t know, Admiral. But it has been my experience,” Kris went on, “that once scientists get to chewing on a problem, they fight like wolves to keep it.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” the professor said in clear disapproval of Kris’s analogy. “However, I do think the Institute would be open for visits from a large collection of scientists. That is the way it has operated.”
“Isn’t Santa Maria kind of vulnerable, hanging out there alone, halfway around the galaxy?” Vicky asked.
“A third of the way around from human and Iteeche space,” Kris corrected. “And fifteen thousand light-years from here. Looks to me like it’s the safest place to be right now.”
From the way heads nodded and shook, it was clear Kris was not going to get any consensus on that. Then again, she didn’t need any consensus. She just needed to get the Constant Star’s load of wreckage off her hands and her fleet back to doing what it was out there to do. Discover.
“Let’s see, Admiral Krätz, you want to send the Terror back to Santa Maria.”
“Yes.” You’re not going to change my mind hung there with the single-word answer.
“Admiral Channing, you would like to have one of your battle cruisers in the escort. What about you, Admiral Kōta?”
“Admiral Channing and I only have two ships each. We can’t both afford to send separate escorts.”
The two admirals flipped for the privilege of sending a ship along with the Terror. Channing lost. Or won. Anyway, the Triumph would fly wing on the Constant Star.
Which left Kris’s royals the least represented.
The Constant Star was a late addition to the Helvitican Fleet. Even though it was leased at Wardhaven, Kris knew nothing of the captain and crew. Just as bad, the Mercury was a recently captured pirate schooner crewed from the Wardhaven, er U.S. Navy. Still, the captain and crew were a blank to her.
“Commander Taussig,” Kris said.
“Right here, Your Highness,” Phil said, standing from where the other skippers of PatRon 10 were over near the bar. The other ships of the squadron were dry, just like the rest of the fleet.
The Wasp, however, was different. With its mixed crew of civilians and service personnel, there were several contractormanaged restaurants and public rooms. Kris had never felt the need to place those watering holes off-limits to any of her crew. Indeed, she’d often used the Forward Lounge for semiofficial purposes, just like now.
Most of the visiting Navy folks had taken advantage of the bar already; her skippers were no exception.
“Phil, I got a job for you.”
“Mother of God help me.”
Kris smiled at his reply but went ahead with her orders. “Please form a detail from the Hornet and establish a Royal presence on the Constant Star. I’m holding you personally responsible for seeing that everything on that tub is turned over to the Institute for Alien Studies.”