“She’s opening a door, but there’s a lock, and it’s only on her side,” Nelly reported.
“Do you want me to go out on your cruise tomorrow?” Penny asked.
“No need. The information will be as plain as the ship’s success or failure. You and Masao keep tracking the reports coming in from the discovery expeditions. They either find something, or we starve.”
And maybe, if you two keep working close together, you’ll find a way to make a door between your hearts.
“Oh, Penny, aren’t you about due to make lieutenant commander?” Kris asked.
“I honestly don’t know. I haven’t been doing the career thing very well, touching all the bases, getting my ticket punched. You know.”
“You’ve been following a Longknife around and staying alive,” Kris said through another yawn. “Nelly, cut papers for my signature. Penny gets her extra stripe the first of next month.”
“And then you’ll outrank me,” the Musashi Navy officer observed.
Oops. Maybe Kris hadn’t accomplished quite what she intended. She needed some rest. Tomorrow would come way too soon.
28
Commodore Kris Longknife, ComFrigRon 4, rolled her high-gee egg out of her quarters and onto the bridge of her flagship, the Princess Royal. Captain Drago and a ship maintenance chief were already there, eggs parked against the bridge’s aft bulkhead.
They were observers and would play no part in this exercise.
Unless or until something went wrong and Kris ordered them forward.
Captain Kitano of the Princess Royal sat in her high-gee egg in the middle of her bridge, surrounded by the watch. Kris noticed that someone had made all the combat stations disappear into the deck. A good idea, one she wished she’d thought of.
If you’re in an egg, who needs a board you can’t get your hands on?
With no flag bridge, Kris chose to roll her egg over next to the skipper’s before she ordered, “Signal the squadron to sortie. The flag first followed by the others in order of their berth.”
That order was passed to her command . . . and then the fun started.
The little Intrepid wasn’t supposed to sortie next, but after waiting four minutes for the Constellation to get underway ahead of her, she requested permission and departed, taking second station behind the flag.
Six minutes later, the Constitution also requested permission to get underway, and took third slot.
The Connie didn’t get away from the pier for another ten minutes and trailed well after the rest of the squadron.
Not a good start, Lieutenant Commander Sampson, Kris thought.
Kris set the fleet speed at one-gee acceleration and, at the last second, set ship interval at one thousand kilometers, echeloned left at two hundred kilometers.
She’d planned for a shorter, 250-kilometer interval but something told her if she didn’t want dings on her ships, she’d better give them a lot of room.
The squadron spread out as it followed her toward Alwa’s large moon. The plan was to swing around it and return to Canopus Station without doing any harm.
Ships deployed to her satisfaction, Kris gave her next order. “The fleet will go to two gees on my mark.”
The P Royal’s comm reported the order received and acknowledged. Then Kris said, “Mark,” and the egg gave her a kick in the seat of her pants.
Beside her, Captain Kitano grunted. “That wasn’t in any of the manuals I read.”
“I think they want you to know you’ve just jacked up your acceleration. I’ve been meaning to write a letter to Mitsubishi and ask them to make the kick a bit less. In my spare time.”
“I’ll add that letter to my to-do list, in my spare time,” the skipper of Kris’s flag said.
“Let’s see what we can do with all those nifty toys the taxpayers gave us. Signal to squadron, discharge main forward battery on my mark. Target empty space.”
Comm quickly reported the squadron ready, and Kris gave her mark.
All four ships immediately fired. For the little Intrepid, it was a four 18-inch volley reaching out one hundred thousand kilometers into space. For the big frigates it was supposed to be a six gun shoot. It was for the lead two. Six 20-inch lasers reached out to 150,000 kilometers.
Constellation only managed a three gun volley.
“Did I count that right?” Kris asked Nelly.
“It was only three lasers.”
“Send to squadron. Fire at will. Single shots will be fine if that is what you have.”
Ten seconds later, the Intrepid had reloaded and blasted away with a four shoot. Five seconds later, two of three heavies let loose with 20-inch lasers, in volleys six strong.
The Intrepid had gotten off a second four shots before the Connie got a single second shot off. The other two big frigates spoke again before that weak sister got off another single shot.
“Cease fire,” Kris ordered. NELLY, WHAT EXACTLY WAS THE CONSTELLATION’S AVAILABILITY REPORT THIS MORNING?
THE SAME AS IT WAS FOR THE LAST WEEK, MA’AM. ALL GUNS READY. FULL SPEED AVAILABLE. NINETY-NINE PERCENT OF SYSTEMS ONLINE.
AND THE OTHER FRIGATES?
SAME AS TO GUNS AND SPEED. ALL SYSTEMS FLUCTUATED BETWEEN NINETY-SIX AND NINETY-EIGHT PERCENT.
Kris held on to her temper with her fingernails. A commander could not afford to lose her temper. “Send to squadron. Make fleet speed three-gee acceleration on my mark.”
The communication cycle was quickly completed in the Navy way and Kris gave her mark.
Again, she got a solid kick in her rump.
“I was ready for it this time,” the skipper of the P Royal said, then went about her business.
Kris watched on her own screen as her squadron accelerated smoothly to three gees.
Except for the Connie. She stalled out at 2.46 and held at that acceleration, slowly falling behind.
NELLY, WHAT’S THE PROBLEM WITH THE CONNIE?
MA’AM, ONE OF HER REACTORS HAS GONE OFF-LINE. THE OTHER TWO ARE REDLINING. IF HER CAPTAIN KEEPS PUSHING HER AT THIS ACCELERATION, SHE’S LIKELY TO BLOW HER UP.
Or have a mutiny on her hands. Kris scowled to herself.
“Signal from flag to Constellation, fall out of formation and reduce acceleration to two gees.”
“Sent and acknowledged,” the comm reported.
The trailing war wagon quit struggling and fell quickly behind.
“Flag to squadron,” Kris said, “Prepare to initiate Combat Evasion Plan 1.”
Kris gave the ships’ bridge crews time to load Nelly’s most gentle jinks program. This one was for the distant approach when the force was well out of range of their target. It had the ships moving right, left, up, down in a random pattern. If the enemy analyzed and assumed that was what they’d be facing the entire fight, that was just too bad for them. They’d be confused, and their targeting computers outfoxed when the final run in used Combat Evasion Plan 6.
“Execute,” Kris ordered, and the ships began a dance that was not quite what she intended. Even the trailing Connie did something. Nelly projected on the battle board in Kris’s egg just what the ships should have been doing.
What the ships were doing was not even close.
Around Kris, reports came in of material and ship fixtures failing to stay where they were supposed to as the ship went one way and equipment and gear went another. Kris politely ignored that and let Captain Kitano handle them as best she could.