The weapons developer gave the head of Kris’s boffins an acid look.
“Sir, that question did not escape our concern. We have instrumentation maintaining constant observations of all extracted neutron material. We have identified no expansion. This includes the instruments observing the warheads on the torpedoes aboard each of the three transports that came out with me.”
“Three transports. How many torpedoes did you bring?” Kris asked.
“Three.”
Kris considered that for a moment, then went on. “I know I shouldn’t ask this, but how big are these torpedoes?”
“Each of the warheads contains approximately 2.5 cubic millimeters of neutron-star material,” the scientist said. “Say about fifteen thousand tons of mass per weapon.”
Several people in the room whistled at that.
Kris held up her hand, two fingers a few millimeters apart. “Fifteen thousand tons in that tiny space?”
“Actually, we’ve spun it out into a concave lens sixty-six centimeters in diameter. That’s the same size as the torpedo. We think that might have the effect of reflecting back any lasers fired at it. We didn’t have time to test that hypothesis before we were ordered to pack up our test items and get them out here to you.”
Fifteen thousand tons in anything like that small a space. The thought boggled Kris’s mind. Her mind was getting way too familiar with the boggles.
“Pardon me,” Penny said. “But if you’ve got this wonderful device that can reach down into this huge gravity well around a neutron star and pinch out a BB-gun-size chunk with fifteen thousand tons of mass, what am I missing? Why don’t you have that doohickey out here? Think of what that can do!”
“Yes,” Dr. Malroney said, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat. “I do imagine the primary device has significant military possibilities. However, it takes a large asteroid to hold it and requires the power plants of several large cities to power it.”
“Mobility it ain’t got,” Abby said.
The room took a minute to absorb that.
“Let’s talk about that torpedo,” Captain Drago said. “With a fifteen-thousand-ton warhead, just how fast can you get it going?”
“The torpedo’s propulsion machinery is simplicity itself,” the woman boffin said. “Reaction mass heated with antimatter. We store the antimatter separate from the torpedo and only load it just before we launch. The containment field is of light construction. It will hold long enough to get the job done, say ten minutes to an hour.”
“How fast can you get the torpedo going?” the captain said, cutting in.
“Two seconds after launch, it will be accelerating at ten gees,” the woman scientist said. “Our initial reaction mass is water. But that’s just intended to get the rocket motors started and the torpedo away from the ship that launched it. After that, we’re using iron filings for the reaction mass. Iron and antimatter plasma has a very high specific impulse.”
Kris swallowed. “I imagine it does.”
“How many of these infernal machines did you bring out, again?” Captain Drago asked.
“Three.”
“We have four scout corvettes here,” Kris pointed out.
“Actually, I think your grandfather, our king, knew what he was doing,” said Captain Drago. “The Wasp is already some twenty thousand tons heavier than the other three scouts. That’s the price we pay to carry the extra Marines and boffins and their gear. I’m not sure how the Wasp would take to another . . . What? How large do these torpedoes mass out?”
“They come in at eighteen thousand tons—warhead, fuel, and engines,” Commander Taussig put in.
“So you’ve given this problem some thought,” Captain Drago said.
“Quite a bit on the way out.” Phil tapped his wrist unit, and a schematic of the Hornet appeared on one of Kris’s walls. “We’ll have to lock one of these puppies down right at the ship’s center of gravity. Otherwise, you put momentum on the boat, and it’s going to go in all kinds of directions. One thing I’ve liked about the Hornet is how nimble she is. If we don’t do this right, they’ll all wallow like pigs.”
“I’ll thank you not to refer to my Wasp as a pig,” Captain Drago said.
At that, the two ship drivers dropped out of the English language for the next several minutes, losing themselves in technical talk.
It was interesting to Kris to see both Professor mFumbo and Dr. Mulroney left to stare dumbly as the conversation went over their heads. Kris relaxed and enjoyed it.
At her father’s knee, she’d gotten comfortable with people knowing more than she did about this or that technical specialization. As the great Billy Longknife said, “You don’t have to know how to make it happen. Just who . . . and when.” He was also quick to point out that his military was a spear he decided who to point at and when and where to stick them.
Kris let that thought roll around her skull for a few minutes while the two ship captains kept everyone else entertained.
When they paused for breath, Kris raised her hand for silence. It came quickly.
“Pardon me,” Kris said, “but did I miss something?”
That brought her blank stares.
“As I recall, our mission was something like ‘We come. We see. We run real fast home and report.’ Wasn’t that in all the papers?” Kris asked.
“I seem to remember hearing that rumor from someone who thought she was running the show,” Abby drawled.
Around the table, all she got was sober looks.
“If that’s the mission, how come Grampa just sent me three of the most gi-hugical and nasty weapons in human history?”
Kris let the question hang there. She had no intention of being the first to take a crack at an answer.
When the silence stretched, Colonel Cortez pursed his lips and ventured slowly. “Your great-grandfather, our king, has spent some time on the tip of the spear, Your Highness. I trust he’s developed some seriously reliable gut instincts, or he’d be dead by now even if he did only half of what they say he did.”
He paused, polled the room with his eyes, and went on. “The seriously nasty behavior of the one ship we encountered might have seriously bothered him. Commander, I understand that these weapons came with an injunction not to start a war . . . if she could avoid it.”
“Something like that. I’ve got the message here if you want to read it.” He tapped his wrist unit, and Nelly projected a picture of the transmittal form. It was like any other supply chit, except at the bottom, in his own hand, the king had handwritten the injunction, “Try not to start a war with these.”
Kris glanced around the room, suspecting what everyone else was thinking but no one wanted to say. King Ray was handing Kris a loaded gun, then resorting to the most crass of bureaucratic techniques by adding a “not order” to cover his ass.
Kris scowled as the poisoned silence grew long. Then, with a shake of her head, she went back to the practical problems at hand.
“I take it from what you two captains were saying, we’re going to need to stay put for a long while to make all of this happen.”
“Actually, not,” Captain Drago said.
“It’s a pretty standard set of mods that we’ll have to make to the Hornet, Fearless, and Intrepid,” Phil said. “The Vulcan has the machine shops and gear to make the bomb harnesses. Once their specialists take the measurements off each of the ships, our scouts can go about their business. A couple of weeks later, we can get the installation done in no time at all. You weren’t planning on our hanging around here for all that time, were you, Princess?”