As supplicant? Rebel?
In a moment, she would open her mouth, speak the Word, and forever be branded by what she said. She could do nothing. But Longknifes had never been good at that. Kris weighed her options and decided now was no time to buck tradition.
Jack took over a corner where he could observe the entire room. He and the Marine sergeant exchanged glares, decided both were alpha, and went back to doing whatever it is that security people do when everything is locked down securely. Penny took a chair away from the table but in easy reach at Kris's left.
''I'm glad to see that we have an intelligence officer among us,'' the Commodore said, starting the meeting with no preamble. ''Though I understand congratulations are more in order than requests for data downloads. So you were successful in tying the knot, Lieutenant Lien, before things got interesting.''
''I was, sir,'' Tom said, half standing in place. ''May I introduce my wife, Lieutenant Lien, though her name badge is a tad out of date.''
Penny blushed in that lovely way of brides. There was a general round of ''Hear! Hear!''
Kris waited for silence, then filled it. ''Do we know any more about the intruders?''
''No, sad to say,'' the Commodore growled. ''I got more from pumping my returning skippers than my own sources. The command net has gone decidedly unhelpful. It seems a colonel from the general staff made a personal visit to the military facilities on the space station. His verbal orders were to cease any actions that might give offense to the incoming ships. Close down sensor scans, stand down defensive systems, make nice or better yet say nothing in message traffic, what have you.'' The Commodore gave a diffident wave of his hand and scowled.
''I only know this because I sent my XO to the fleet command center to find out why the net was suddenly so silent. No one felt a need to hand carry any orders to an old scow like the Cushing. Anyway, we seem to be rolling over and playing dead. But there's nothing official to that effect.''
Kris looked around the table at the other skippers, her peers, the closest she'd come in her adult life to friends. How would they take to what she was about to do? Slowly, she stood.
''Our planet is under deadly threat. We here command the only force capable of standing between those battleships and our families. Our loved ones. While the government talks, searches for a policy, we have been asked to stand down. Do nothing.'' Kris shook her head slowly.
''We are warriors. We know that if we are called to battle in four days, we need every second to prepare for that fight.'' There were nods around the table. Not all. Not all were from Wardhaven. Would they recognize this was their fight? Kris took in a deep breath, held it for a second, and took the plunge.
''I am Princess Kristine Anne Longknife. By right of blood, by right of name, by right of title, I am assuming command of this squadron, effective this date. Do any of you contest my claim and right?''
For a long moment, the skippers just stared at her. Here and there an eyebrow raised. If anyone, it was Phil and Chandra who seemed the closest to frowning at her coup de main. The Commodore's face was standard Navy issue unreadable.
And the door opened. Commander Santiago pushed past the Marine guards. ''Have I missed anything important?'' she said as she pulled up a chair and sat down at the Commodore's elbow.
''Only the princess here announcing she's taking command of my squadron,'' the Commodore half grumbled.
''Oh, only that. Good, then I'm not too late,'' Santiago said, then turned to Kris. ''So, Princess Longknife, how are we going to fight those bastards?''
Kris blinked. She'd expected opposition. Argument. Compromise. Anything but this. Anything but having to come up with an answer right now.
''With everything we've got.'' Kris said. ''And everything we can lay our hands on in the next three days.''
''Not a bad start,'' the destroyer skipper agreed.
''Are you going along with her?'' Phil asked, incredulity dripping from his voice to puddle on the deck plates.
Santiago eyed him. ''Phil, Phillip Taussig. You're Admiral Taussig's boy, right?''
''Yes ma'am.''
''Listen, Lieutenant, we've got a first-class mess here. Don't you agree?'' Phil nodded. ''The politicians, God bless ‘em, got faked out of their socks and are presently hunting for a new pair. When they finally decide what to do, odds are, it will be to drop this hot potato into our delicate fingers.
''As I see it, we can follow someone's idea of orders and do nothing, or we can use the legal fiction of Princess Longknife here, and do something. Three days hence, what we do with the next hours just might save our lives. Me, given an option of hiding behind some unwritten orders left by some gutless wonder from the general staff or hiding behind Princess Longknife's legal coattails…'' The Commander shrugged.
''I'll take my chances with a Longknife. Especially since I suspect that when we head out for those battleships, we'll be following in her wake. You will be leading us, Your Highness.''
''Damn right I will,'' Kris said. There were times when princesses did not mind their language.
Her words went around the table. They answered a lot of the doubt behind the eyes, but not all. Kris had to have them behind her all the way. ''Wardhaven is my home. I'm fighting for everything I love. Some of you are from Pitts Hope, Santa Maria, elsewhere. You could say this isn't your fight.'' No one nodded agreement with her, but she could see some think it.
''For better or worse, Wardhaven is in this mess because we went to the aid of a planet in trouble. Now we're the one in trouble. We have to fight together, side be side, all for one. If we don't, the ones who pulled the strings at Boynton, at Wardhaven, will be pulling the strings at Pitts Hope, Lorna Do, Turantic, next month. Next year. We take our stand now, together, or there soon may be no place to stand at all.''
''Go tell the Spartans,'' Heather Alexander sighed. ''I knew there was a reason I hated history class.''
''It's not fair,'' Babs said. ''These odds are—''
''Lousy,'' Kris agreed. ''I know. And all we've got is our twelve boats.''
''And my Halsey,'' Sandy pointedly added.
''Don't forget the Cushing,'' the Commodore said. ''If the old reactor isn't good for one more high-speed run, I'll have the snipes out pushing.'' That got a smile from the PF skippers.
''And the target decoys,'' Kris said.
''Target decoys?'' came from both the senior Navy types.
''Not as battleships, but maybe if we dialed them down to look like light cruisers and the destroyers towed them, they could draw some of the intruders' fire.''
''Anything that has them waste a few shots isn't a wasted effort for us,'' the Commodore agreed.
''Every shot not aimed at the PFs increases our chances of getting our hits in,'' Kris said. Now, despite herself, she was grinning. ''We've got three days to do what we can to improve the odds. The Nuu shipyard is right next door. If Grampa Al won't open it wide for us, I'll find another way to get around, under, or over the fence. Chandra, you've talked about putting rockets on the boats. Using the Foxer launchers for something deadly.''
''You think we could get access to the Army's new AGM-944 high-acceleration rockets?'' the mustang asked.
''Has to be some way. Last time I checked, the Army was on the same side as us,'' Santiago said.
For a second there was brightness behind Singh's dark eyes; then she shook her head as if to recover from a dream. ''Our engines are cold steel. Our motors have been shut down for nearly four weeks. We don't know if our electronics are still good. These boats were not intended for storage, not without preparation, and the way we got shut down, they got none.''
''Then we'd better start testing them, finding out their problems, and getting them back online,'' Kris said. ''We commissioned these boats. We can recommission them.''