''When's that?'' Brother asked.
''Assuming they continue their one-g deceleration, and that they want to make orbit with standard energy…'' Sandy tapped the battle board. Kris read off a time not quite two days hence.
''Not a lot of time,'' the young woman said.
''I'm hearing that a lot from yard workers, ship fitters, engineers,'' Kris said. ''If we'd been ordered to go tomorrow, we'd go, but our chances of getting those battleships are a whole lot better for having had three days' preparation.''
''Three days?''
''I came right up here,'' Kris said.
''One more thing,'' Kusa said. ''I expect that my dad and your father can agree to most of what they presently differ over, Honovi. But one thing must be clear before any further talks.''
''Yes?''
''When this naval force sails to engage the, what did you call them, hostiles, there will be no Longknife aboard them.''
Kris swallowed hard. There it was again. Nobody, but nobody, wanted her in the squadron. Not Grampa Al, for his reasons. Not Honovi. Not the Pandoris for their own reasons. She half expected Brother to snap, ''Deal.''
There was silence from the other end of the line.
''Sis,'' Honovi finally said slowly, ''I'd love to agree to what she just asked.''
Kris stood, her finger hovering over the Talk button on the commsole. All she had to say was ''Yes,'' and she was out of this suicidal charge. She'd live!
To see what? Live under whose idea of a government? Before Kris could stab the comm button, Sandy got there first.
''This is Commander Santiago, skipper of the destroyer Halsey. Princess Longknife is in my Combat Information Center, and we've been listening in on this conversation. And Ms. Pandori, before you go through the roof, let me assure you that those listening will hold this conversation in utmost confidence until their dying day. Which, I suspect, isn't all that far off, since my ship and I will be doing our best to punch a hole in the battleships' defenses for the fast boats to slip through.
''You say you do not want a Longknife with us when we sortie tomorrow. Sorry. We want her. Not only do we want her with us on that sortie, but we demand that she lead us. We demand that because the odds are that a hell of a lot of us are going to die on that sortie. If she's leading us, there's a damn sight better chance that we will not die in vain. Am I clear on that point?''
''Yes, Commander,'' came a rather cowed woman's voice.
''I understand your political objective. As a Santiago, trust me, I don't like Longknifes any better than you do. However, I've seen the files of what she did in the only practice run this squadron got to make. I've watched her pull this lash-up together. When all hell's a-popping, you send for the bastards, and there ain't no bastard better than a Longknife bastard. From what I've seen, this one has the makings of a damn fine Longknife bastard.
''So, ma'am, when we sortie, we sortie behind her, or your father may find that those of us presently in rebellion by preparing for what we were told not to prepare for, will be in rebellion by refusing to sail for what we damn well' have gotten ready for. Do I make myself clear?''
''Perfectly, Commander.''
''This is Lieutenant, JG Tom Lien, commanding PF-109. I'll be in one of those toys that will be doing its best to close with the battleships and blast them out of space. Every one of us skippers wants Kris and that crazy computer around her neck to be calling the shots on when we dodge and how we do it. Eight of us tried attacking just one drone battleship, and eight of us failed. Four followed those two and we four got our fake battleship. That tell you the way it is?''
Well, maybe I don't get to stay home and knit, Kris thought.
''I will tell my father that keeping Princess Kristine out of the attack on the invaders is not an option,'' the young woman said. ''I may require further concessions from you, Honovi.''
''You're going to ask me for concessions so my kid sister can run off and get herself killed?'' her brother growled.
Kris mashed the Talk button. ''Down, Brother. Remember, you're the politician. I'm the one who gets to break things.''
''Kris! Please take care.''
''As much as the circumstances allow.''
''Yeah, right,'' he snorted. ''I think this tells you all you need to know, Kris. Kusa, shall we continue our talk privately?''
''Very privately,'' said the young woman's voice.
''Kris, you really will see that this does not leak.''
''Brother,'' Kris said, glancing around the CIC, giving every soul present a look that would sear steel, ''what they heard here they have already forgotten.''
''Thank you. Good-bye. Stay safe.''
''Good-bye. Don't forget to take care of yourself. Some of those lasers may be aimed your way, too, Brother.''
There was a bitter snort. ''You. Worrying about me!'' and the line cut off.
''You weren't really looking for an out option, were you?'' Sandy half asked.
''No, though I have to wonder a bit. Everyone keeps throwing them at me. Kind of makes me wonder if it's just me that wants to make this crazy run. Nice to know I'm wanted,'' Kris said, giving Tom a hug. Penny joined in from the other side.
''Yeah, I think we want you, or your computer.''
''It is nice to be wanted,'' Nelly said.
''When you're finished with that love fest, could you help me?'' Sandy said as gruffly as the grin on her face would allow. Tom and Penny broke from the hug, leaving Kris once more alone.
''Yesterday, Winston Spencer, a newsie who did a story on what it's like to be a destroyer sailor last year, called me. Good story. Wanted to know if I'd be doing anything interesting soon. I told him I'd heard the Navy was only doing nice things just now. He said he'd heard the same, but if things changed, he'd sure like to go out with me. Friends for old times' sake.''
Kris measured that against what her brother had said. Patriotism wasn't something limited to just a day here and there, to this group or that. She shrugged. ''Ask him if his insurance is paid up and if his wife and kids would mind if he got suddenly dead. Then offer him a berth. Assuming you don't mind.''
''He did a good story. If he lives, he'll do another one.''
''Boy, aren't we a gloomy bunch,'' Penny said.
Tommy glanced at Penny. ''Sure you want to ride the 109?''
''Will you be in it?'' his bride asked. Her groom nodded. ''Can anyone make that board do its tricks better than I can? Oh. Right. Nobody can make it do anything. Aren't we supposed to be talking to someone about that?'' Penny said, glancing around.
''Yep, that nice guy snoring over there,'' Kris said.
''Who, me?'' Beni said, sitting up, eyes open now.
''Can we borrow him?'' Kris asked. ''Tom stole this intel station, but we can't get it to tie into our sensor array. At least not consistently.''
Sandy grinned. ''Beni don't need sleep. Grab your toolbox and head up the pier, First Class.''
''I keep saying I got to make Chief. They never do a lick of work. This being first class is just too much of a bad thing.''
''You could apply for OCS,'' Kris suggested.
''Yeah. That would be the ticket. Officers never do nothing. Be an officer and just stand around drinking the coffee the Chief brings you and telling jokes. That's what I need to do. Which boat is it you need fixing?''
''The 109,'' Penny said. ''I'll take you there.''
Tom started to follow, but Kris grabbed his elbow. ''We have a four o'clock stand-up on the pier. Maybe after it, Penny and Beni will have your problem solved.'' ''Stand-up on the pier?'' Sandy said. ''Yep, that's why I dropped by. To tell you about it.'' Sandy got off her stool. ''Glad you mentioned it.'' ''Say nothing of it,'' Kris said as they headed for the hatch.