“And these nutcases just had to share our galaxy,” Jack grumbled. “I can’t tell you how happy I expect your grampas to be when we get home and drop this flaming hot potato right in their laps.”
“They won’t be glad,” Kris said, “but they’ll have to do something about this. They can’t ignore it.”
“Ever heard of that fine old tradition about killing the messenger?” the colonel tossed out.
On that fine thought, Kris headed up to the bridge to see how things were developing there. The view was spectacular, but hard to figure out.
How an old red giant and a young blue giant could now share the system with a white dwarf probably could be explained by a series of collisions. Kris had been told by the boffins that such driving accidents were frequent in the jumbled-up systems at the center of the galaxy.
How it happened out on the rim was a question Kris would hand off to the astronomers just as soon as she found one.
She shivered as she remembered that Professor mFumbo and so many other of the boffins she’d shared meals with and survived lectures from were either dead or had taken the early ship back to human space.
“Nelly, where did Judge Francine go?”
“Kris, she went aboard the Triumph with Admiral Channing.”
Which meant she was still running or had been gunned down already.
Kris groaned inwardly. There was no way to know what happened until they got back and allowed enough time for the others to get back.
A voice in the back of her head refused to be placated. You know they’re already dead. Maybe the Wasp can get home, but none of the rest will. You lost almost your entire first command.
Kris did not need to spend more time sitting on her rear listening to the voices in the back of her head.
Fortunately, the Wasp needed a lot of work, the kind that took Swedish steam. Strong arms and strong back. No brains required.
Kris turned to with a will.
The Wasp continued to decelerate, running at only a half gee by then. The chief engineer had taken one of the reactors off-line and had cooled half the rocket engines. Engineers and anyone fully qualified in space were crawling all over the engines identifying what had had it and pulling subunits where there was any chance that replacements were in stock or repairs could be made.
It turned out that there was a good reason why the Wasp had taken on all those sailors during the last few stops by Wardhaven. Her enlarged crew knew quite a bit about ship maintenance and set about doing it under the watchful eye of her skipper, officers, and chiefs.
And Kris found that her strange career path had deprived her of the opportunity to learn a whole lot about running a ship.
About the second time that Captain Drago tried to find something that she could do and came up dry, she gave up on working for a living and went hunting for the other folks who were mere passengers on this ship of fools. There was no Forward Lounge left, but Iteeche country still had a large room.
Kris called her staff together, with Vicky added, and settled down around a table with Ron.
“This is a fine mess you have gotten us into,” he told her through his translator.
“You were the one losing ships and asked us to help,” Kris pointed out.
“We were hoping to find out what was happening to our ships, not to get into a war with one monster of a civilization,” he said, but then he shrugged. “If we were honest with ourselves, we must have known that we could find something like this.
“When I bring this report into His Majesty’s presence, I may well be offered the Cup of Apology,” the Iteeche went on. “But they will be hiding the truth from themselves in a polluted pond.”
“Why is it that you and Kris are assuming that you’ll be in trouble for this battle?” Vicky asked. “You did your best, and it needed doing. We all agreed on that. Well, we all did except my admiral, and I think he was just chicken.”
“Maybe they feel this way because they have read a little bit of history,” Colonel Cortez said. “What’s the old saying? No good deed goes unpunished.”
Kris and her team spent the afternoon reviewing the battle for Ron the Iteeche and Grand Duchess Vicky. The two had little to add to what Kris had already concluded. They came, they saw, they got their butts kicked and got a couple of good kicks in themselves. Kris did her best to avoid putting a spin on any of it. One of the reasons she chose the Navy for a career was because she hated the way Father spun everything.
The walk back to the wardroom for supper was a harrowing experience. Welders were everywhere, adding patches to strengthen this or that portion of the hull. The chief had warned Kris that the Wasp was never designed for cloud dancing.
Clearly, the skipper was doing his very best to shore up those deficiencies.
Kris got a fuller briefing over supper when Captain Drago joined them.
“Before we deploy the balloot, I’m going to detach all of the shipping containers we’ve been carrying. That means a lot less room, Your Highness. I’m going to have to ask you to let your maid and her niece move in with you.”
“What will you do with the Iteeche?” Kris asked.
“Something very careful,” the skipper answered with a sigh. “I’ve also got welders outside cutting several of the spare containers into strips that we can use to reinforce the hull before we make the refueling pass. We’ll have more reinforcing strips and welders handy during the refueling pass to patch what comes apart.”
“Will it be that bad?” Jack asked.
“As your chief no doubt informed you, ships like the Wasp were never intended to do this kind of cloud dancing. However, if we want to make it home, we must refuel. I’ve got several of the best ship maintainers reviewing the design of the Wasp and identifying its weak points. We’ll strengthen them now and have teams standing by as we make the fuel run to patch holes and shore up problems. Nevertheless, all hands will be in pressure suits for the pass,” the captain added dryly.
“Not too optimistic, huh,” the colonel observed.
“I serve with a Longknife. I parked my optimism in a locker back on Wardhaven. Once I’m done here, I’ll check it back out, dust it off, and enjoy it for the rest of my natural life. But no, not today.”
“What can we do?” Kris asked.
“Not a lot, Your Highness. The ship’s crew has matters well in hand. When we start the pass, though, I would appreciate it if you and your team would form a damage-control detail.”
“Could you use Nelly or one of her kids to help with the ship-strength-analysis efforts?” Kris asked.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Captain Drago said, getting up from the table with his meal only half-eaten, “I’d prefer to place my faith in men and material that have been trained and selected for this job. No doubt Nelly is superb at pulling things out of her nonexistent hat for this or that unforeseen emergency. Still, for this, I’ll do things the old-fashioned way, thank you very much.”
“Yes, of course,” Kris said.
I COULD HAVE TOLD YOU HE’D SAY THAT, Nelly told Kris in the privacy of her own skull. I ALREADY OFFERED HIM A HAND AND HE PASSED.
THANK YOU, NELLY, Kris thought back.
As the hours stretched, and no alien ship came shooting into the system, Kris began to relax. They seemed to have slipped their pursuers. She tried not to think of what that meant for Phil Taussig and the Hornet’s crew.
That night, even sharing her room with Abby and Cara, Kris slept the repose of the dead. Until about midnight, when she woke up to the soft sounds of someone’s crying.