''Yes, Brother, but that Society is dead, and ugly things are roving human space, and I'm gonna be facing six of them in a couple of hours, so you'll excuse me if I don't feel all that sorry for Pandori and his daughter.''
''Yeah, I can see your point. Anyway, Sis, you're legal. You can go break things, and it ain't against the law. Happy?''
''Jubilant. Now Bro, if you're anywhere around your old haunts, I strongly suggest you get long gone. If this guy is anything like the last Peterwald nut I dealt with, he wants you and Father dead in the worst way. Head for the hills. Keep your head down until you have a good idea of what I've broken.''
''Understand you, Sis. I'll pick up Rose and Mother and, how do you say it, beat feet out of town.''
''Good-bye, Brother, I got to talk to a couple of thousand of my closest friends,'' Kris said and cut the line. She was at the podium. She waved off help getting up. Among the older, wiser heads, she asked softly, ''You want to say a word?''
''You played the princess card, Kris,'' Sandy said. The other two senior naval officers nodded. Painfully aware of the Lieutenant strips on her shoulder boards, the Commanders, Captain tabs on their shipsuits, Kris faced her command.
They looked back at her. Expectant. Ready.
Kris stood, legs apart, hands on hips, and looked back at them. ''Now it's our turn,'' she began.
''Eighty years ago, your great-grandmothers, greatgrandfathers, fought with my Great-grandfathers Ray and Trouble to beat back the Iteeches and save humanity from extinction.''
Beside her, the Commodore cleared his throat.
''Okay.'' Kris smiled. ''Some of you old farts were there, with my grampas, doing the fighting.'' That brought a soft chuckle among the ranks.
''Those of you who faced the Iteeche know what it's like to fight outnumbered, outgunned … and win.''
''Yeah,'' ''You bet,'' ''We did,'' came back in smatterings.
''The Iteeche would have made the human race an extinct race. You didn't let that happen.''
''No,'' came back solid, sure.
''You fought, and you won, and we've built the world we've enjoyed for the last eighty years. A world of peace. A world of prosperity. A world those battleships coming at us plan to end. Are we going to let them?''
''No,'' rolled back at Kris.
''So now it's our turn. The bastards out there have got us outmaneuvered. They've got us outgunned. But they haven't got us outsmarted. They haven't got half as many surprises up their sleeves as we've got up ours.''
Again there was a murmur of approval in the ranks.
''Dirtside, my brother thinks I'm crazy. He thinks I'm out of my mind to be charging into a fight when I could be down there where he is. Who's the crazy one in the family, me or him?''
''Him,'' roared back at her.
''You've probably got smart brothers like mine. Stay home. Stay safe. As I see it, when those battleships start shooting, he has to sit there and take it. Me, I get to shoot back.''
''Yes.''
''I get to blow them out of space.'' Just one chance. Hold it; what did the tugboat skipper say?
''Yes,'' didn't last nearly long enough for Kris to finish the thought nibbling at her. She concentrated on the speech; the battle would have to wait for a second.
''Now it's my turn to put a stop to them shooting at my mom, my dad, my brother, my loved ones.'' Kris wished she could name a few specific names, but ''Yes'' was roaring back at her.
''The boats ready?''
''Yes,'' was the loudest yet.
''Let's go bust some battleship butt.''
When the cheering died down, Captain van Horn stepped forward. ''Chiefs, dismiss your crews to their ships.''
Maybe the Chiefs did. In the roar that followed, Kris sure didn't hear any orders bellowed. But crews ran or trotted or rushed for their boats, a stream of free humanity rushing to meet the enemy, their fate, victory. Whatever came.
Kris turned to van Horn. ''I got another crazy idea.''
''This better be an easy one as well as good.''
''My PFs are a one-shot weapon. They can't reload their pulse lasers. Right?''
''Yes.''
''We're going to rendezvous with tugs to help us slow down, miss Wardhaven, avoid burning up in the atmosphere. Right?''
''Yes.''
''Could those tugs recharge our pulse lasers, pass a refill of antimatter and reaction mass, recock us for another go at any battlewagon still fighting?''
''We'd have to send you in early,'' Sandy said.
''But we'd get two bites out of the battlewagons.''
''At least any that survived the first run,'' van Horn said, looking around. ''XO?''
''Sir.''
''Get over to the salvage tugs with reactors. See what kind of power cables they have. Make sure they got fittings to match with the PFs. Tell them they're not only going to help them make orbit, they're going to refuel and rearm them.''
''I'll do that, sir. And with your permission, I'll assign myself with that division. Make sure everything goes smoothly.'' Somehow Kris doubted matching up at two, three g's would be anywhere close to smooth.
Roy from the yard passed Kris. ''Nice speech. Almost makes me want to sign on.''
''You got a tugboat with a full reactor?''
''Three deep space salvage tugs in the yard. You don't need them for the stuff you're doing in orbit here.''
Kris explained that she did. ''Oh,'' was his reply. ''You know that thing I said about almost wanting to sign on?''
''Ready to forget the almost?''
He took a deep breath. ''Guess so. I knew that some of my yard folks were sailing on some of these tubs, work not quite finished. Oh hell, why not take out my own fleet of tugs? You want me to catch up with you, slow you down, pass lines?''
''Antimatter containment pods, reaction mass fuel lines, that kind of stuff.''
''Where do I sign up?''
Van Horn looked at his check-in tables; there were still a few folks sitting at them. ''Better hurry if you want one of these nifty uniforms, plus health benefits and life insurance.''
14
Contact: -8 hours 45 minutes
The Duty Lieutenant eyed the feed. Wardhaven was finally sending something to the Revenge.
''Are you getting this?'' Intel asked needlessly.
''I'm watching,'' the Duty Lieutenant said, bringing the thousandth cup of coffee he'd drunk this watch up to his lips. Cold, weak, bad. The coffee. And the response.
''If the unidentified warships in our system do not identify themselves within the hour,'' said the woman on-screen.
A woman being used for such an announcement. The Lieutenant shook his head. Longknifes.
''We will commence the defensive actions against them as is our right under self-defense. These ships are warned that if they take any hostile action against our forces, Wardhaven will respond against them, and those who sent them, with the full force available to us. The approaching ships are warned that they should prepare to be boarded by customs inspectors as well as animal and plant quarantine and drug enforcement inspectors.''
The Lieutenant almost choked on his coffee. ''Sorry,'' he said to the technician who got splattered by the spray. He wiped at the worst droplets.
''It's okay, sir,'' the technician said. ''Sir. Are they serious? About boarding us?''
''They're bluffing,'' said the tech next to him.
''They're joking,'' said the Lieutenant.
''Will you wake the Admiral now?'' the intel chief demanded.
''To answer that!''
''Well, it is the first communication we've had from Wardhaven. And it is an ultimatum.''
''Written by a stand-up comic or someone who has lost all touch with reality,'' the Lieutenant said, finishing his coffee. ''No, I think the Admiral can sleep through this. I will wake him fifteen minutes before the ultimatum expires, and he can compose a response while he's shaving.''
Intel sputtered something as he clicked off, but the Lieutenant ignored him. Nothing had changed. Wardhaven was still there, waiting to be plucked. Cracking a few bad jokes, but if that was the extent of their defense … plant inspectors … there was no need to disturb the Admiral's sleep.