''Enlisted. Officer. My XO if necessary?''
''Your XO, if you don't mind. I've got a new deputy running the Planning and Estimations Branch. I'll have him get over here with everything he's got awake, clean, and sober this afternoon.''
''Helen,'' the Commodore hollered.
A gray head, another retread back from retirement, appeared in the wardroom doorway. ''You bellowed, sir.''
''Shag it over to the yard. Planning and Estimations. Wake their boss, his crew, and tell him his boss wants him over here five minutes ago.''
''On my way,'' Helen said with a half salute.
''I've got your runabout,'' Jack said. ''I just came from there. I can probably get you there and back fastest.''
''Take you up on that,'' Helen said, and they both were gone.
''So the PF skippers aren't waiting until morning to let you know their status,'' Kris said, joining the circle.
''Not for show stoppers,'' the Commodore said. ''I got four boats so far with major problems: 109 and 105 engines, 103's laser capacitors, and 102 started tearing out its lasers.''
''We can manage all that,'' Roy said.
''Grampa Al also donated his armed yacht,'' Kris said.
''So you can lead from the lap of luxury,'' van Horn growled.
''No,'' Kris said. ''But I wondered if the target drones might be a bit more persuasive if their gear was working from a gunned yacht rather than towed behind a destroyer?''
''There'd be more power for the jammers and maskers,'' the Commodore said, rubbing his chin.
''The yacht's two small 12-inch burst lasers are pretty distinctive and not much use at long range,'' Kris said.
''We could add some 4-inch secondaries I have lying around the supply depot,'' van Horn said. ''If Al Longknife won't mind us mussing the finish on his toy, we could hitch them in.''
''My understanding is that we can do anything we want,'' Roy said. ''Now, you don't want to move any Navy into my yard, and any civilian boats can't show up at your piers, so I'll park any yachts at the piers right next to your fence.''
''We'll have to open Gate 5,'' van Horn said with a frown.
''Nope, not necessary.'' Roy grinned and filled the Captain in on the shortcomings of his rent-a-security.
''If I had my Marine detachment,'' the Captain sputtered, then paused. ''But if I had my Marines, we wouldn't be in this mess. Very good, Superintendent. However, Commodore Mandanti, I think we can do better than using your MK VI decoys. We've got some spare MK XIIs lying around the station now that the fleet's out. I'll talk to the skipper of the reserve squadron that runs them.''
''Another person to bring into our strange twist on our stand down orders,'' Sandy said.
''I'll have my XO talk to her. She's his wife. I'm sure she can persuade her ragpickers that now might be a fun time to put in some active duty to help us close down the base. Make it nice and properly unthreatening,'' he finished with a snarl.
So civilians who'd kept a uniform in the closet would be asked to crew lightly armed yachts, faking it as light cruisers, intentionally drawing the fire of battleships to distract them from the fast patrol boats that might—just might—do the battleships some damage.
We're all crazy.
Wonderfully crazy.
Van Horn brought in an Army Colonel, head of the supply depot and armory next door to the Naval station. And brand-new AGM 944s were towed through another improperly locked down gate to be parked under lock and key in a building across from the PF piers. Even boats that had no power to move got ready to be deadlier than they ever had been before.
Exhausted, Kris accepted Santiago's offer for a place to crash that night. She found herself back in the stateroom she'd had for the trip out to Hikila and back, with Jack across the narrow passageway from her. She checked in at CIC before calling it a night. The lead battleship was still broadcasting its demand that they surrender. ''You want a news feed?'' the Duty Lieutenant asked as Sandy ducked her head in the CIC.
''Nelly could do it better and faster,'' Kris said.
''Yes, I could. The space elevator was closed at 8:30 p.m. for technical difficulties.''
''Right,'' Kris said, ''but that's going to make it harder to get work crews up to the yard.''
''Not really. They have to make test runs while making repairs,'' Santiago said. ''We'll see who are on those runs.''
''King Ray has requested assistance from all United Sentient members,'' Nelly said. ''No reaction yet. There are unconfirmed reports that two squadrons, twelve battleships, have been ordered back from Boynton, but no one at Government House will comment. This is interesting. There was a background briefing from a high military official saying that all President-class battleships in human space are accounted for so that the rumors that these ships approaching are super battleships must be discounted.''
''Someone has more faith in intel than me,'' Santiago said.
''And hasn't seen my passive electromagnetic take,'' a tech said, tapping his readouts.
''Wonder who fed that leak?'' Kris muttered.
''Wardhaven stocks are plummeting on the interplanetary markets, Kris. This being the weekend, markets here are closed, but after-hours trading has been suspended. There are reports that automatic tellers are restricting withdrawals.''
''Sounds like standard financial protections,'' Kris said. ''Any specific reactions from people?''
''No, they're going about their weekend,'' Nelly reported.
''Half probably don't even know about this. Won't know until Monday. Any more info on the intruders?'' Sandy asked.
''Not much, Captain.''
''Nothing to match them to any specific warship construction over the last five, ten years?'' Kris asked.
''Well, maybe, maybe not,'' the Lieutenant said with just the hint of a grin. ''Beni, talk to the ladies.''
''Yes, sir, ma'ams. Well, electronic countermeasures take a lot of data analysis. And you can't analyze data without moving it around. That makes noise.'' The young technician rapped a screen where a dozen colored columns moved up and down spasmodically. ''Every design of storage media is just a bit different. My old man analyzes them for Consumer's Union to see how long they last, but he and I've been doing a bit more work. Seeing if we could get a signature off them.''
''From here you can't ID storage media!'' Kris said.
''Ma'am, I got an ID on you and that fancy computer around your neck when you were two piers down.'' The kid grinned.
''Who made the storage on our intruders?'' Santiago snapped.
''Peterwald Computing Unlimited,'' the technician shot back.
''Peterwald,'' Kris breathed. ''Grampa Al thought that we'd find a Peterwald at the bottom of this. I thought he might just be seeing old family ghosts.''
''Sometimes old family ghosts don't stay in the closet where you want ‘em,'' the skipper said. ''Don't take it personally, Kris. If Greenfeld can occupy Wardhaven, they'll take over most of King Ray's United Sentients within a year. Add ninety planets to their sixty, seventy, whatever their count last was, and they'll have Earth in five years. Damn, they played us but good.''
''I need to get this to my father.''
''Call on my phone,'' Beni said, offing his commlink.
''I'm not sure,'' Kris started.
''Ma'am, me and my pop don't much like folks listening in on our conversations. Trust me, what you say on that link will be private. And besides, who's gonna bother listening in on a phone that belongs to some 1/c Electronics Tech? The newsies got better things to do with their time.''
''You can bet on Beni,'' the Duty Lieutenant said.
Kris took the phone, asked Nelly for her security code, then for the special number Honovi reserved for calls from his wife. It was a lousy trick to use Rose's number, but…
''Things are really busy here, honey,'' Brother said a moment later. ''I'll have to call you back.''
''Things are busy here, too, but we need to talk,'' Kris said.