''You got that right.'' Tom beamed and climbed forward. Kris followed.
Contact: -8 hours 15 minutes
''You happy now?'' Mojag Pandori came the closest to snarling as he had during their long discussions. ''The ultimatum is out.''
''Are you going to wait for it to expire before you put our defense forces on alert?'' William Longknife asked lightly.
''Our defense forces are already ready,'' Pandori snapped.
Honovi had been resting a hand on his father's knee. Now he squeezed it. Hard. ''That is not what we have heard,'' Honovi said softly as his father's color rose.
''There are always rumors.''
''Would you mind touching base with your Chief of Staff?''
''That is hardly necessary,'' Kusa said, ever defensive of her father. Honovi had come to respect her for that.
''We will be leaving you in a moment,'' Honovi said but made no sign of rising. ''Humor me just one more time.''
The call was made. ''Admiral Pennypacker, what is our defense alert status?''
''Defense level one, sir. The lowest possible.''
''Lowest!''
''Yes sir, the one you asked for.''
''Admiral, we have Billy Longknife with us,'' Kusa said, cutting off further discussion. ''You may have heard that we just issued an ultimatum to the intruders in system. Don't you think it would be wise for us to now come to full defensive alert?''
''Certainly, if the Prime Minister orders it.''
''It is so ordered,'' the temporary Prime Minister said, looking like he was passing a kidney stone.
''And a strike force is making ready to proceed from High Wardhaven Naval Base to engage the intruders. See that this force receives orders to proceed with full discretion upon the expiration of the ultimatum,'' Kusa added, looking straight at Honovi. He nodded at her.
''A strike force?''
''Yes, Admiral,'' Mojag cut him off. ''Just see that we come to full defense and the orders are issued. Do you understand?''
''Yes, Mr. Prime Minister. I understand. Now we fight.''
''Yes,'' the acting Prime Minister said, almost visibly in pain, as the Admiral rang off.
''May I suggest that you now leave this building?'' Honovi said, standing.
''Leave here?'' came from Kusa, her father, and his.
''Yes. The battleships threaten a planetary bombardment if we resist. Government House will certainly be high on any target list. I suggest we not be here when they start shooting.''
''They wouldn't destroy a cultural and historical icon like this,'' both fathers got out in cadence.
''They wouldn't dare,'' Kusa backed them up.
''Kusa, gentlemen, they intend to destroy Wardhaven as a separate, living entity. In a world ruled by Henry Peterwald, there will only be room for one center of government, and it will not be on Wardhaven. Thus, a wide laser slash will be where we are standing. I strongly suggest we be elsewhere.''
Kris had told Honovi, in private, and with a promise not to tell Father, about what Sandfire on Turantic had intended for her. Anyone who wanted to serve his sis up to Henry Peterwald naked for a long and terminal torture session would not give a second thought to burning down several old buildings. Certainly not buildings that were only useful for self-government.
''I have just put the defense forces of Wardhaven on highest alert. I will not leave this command post,'' Pandori said. Maybe the man did have some fight in him.
''Then, Father, I suggest we leave them to their station.''
The former Prime Minister maintained a frowning silence until they were out of the Prime Minister's office and into the vacant waiting room without. ''Has your sister put you up to this? Is there something you're not telling me?''
''Father, you didn't respond very positively to her earlier accusations against Peterwald. Let's say she has passed along to me some incidents of more recent vintage that I find credible. Taken in context with those battleships, I think it's best if, in her quaint way of putting it, we beat feet for points unconnected with the Longknife name and government functions.''
''Eighty years of peace create a certain way of thinking.''
''Yes, Father. And those who don't break it may very soon find it listed as their cause of death.''
Honovi quickened his pace. His steps echoed off the polished wooden floors and portrait-bedecked halls of Government House. Not one other person was in sight.
Billy Longknife hastened his steps to keep up with his son.
Contact: -7 hours 55 minutes
The Admiral let the hot water run over his razor as he listened to the Duty Lieutenant at his left give his briefing. His Chief of Staff, Bhutta Saris, already showered, shaved, and in dress blues, stood at his other elbow.
''So there is a Longknife at the Naval Base,'' the Admiral interrupted the young junior officer.
''Yes, sir.''
''King Ray,'' he said slowly. ''He could be a problem. Billy would just be there looking for votes.''
''The young woman, Princess Kristine,'' Saris said. ''A socialite with some naval training. She has run afoul of several unusual operations,'' a euphemism for black economic ops on Greenfeld, ''and survived by an amazing streak of luck.''
That was what the intel reports said. ''Amazing luck.'' ''Surprising bit of luck.'' ''Luck beyond normal expectation.'' At Command and Staff College they taught that luck was not a strategy. Apparently at what passed for Greenfeld's spy training school, luck was all that could be connected with the Longknifes.
''What could a squadron of battleships have to fear from a mere Lieutenant?'' the Duty Lieutenant added.
''What was the ultimatum again?'' The Admiral finished shaving the other side of his face as he listened to it a second time. ''So, they want to know who we are? And they want to inspect us, like they would any tramp freighter, huh?'' They laughed politely at his joke while he washed off the soap.
He dried himself. His batman brought his uniform blouse, complete with medals. As he shrugged into it, he reached a conclusion. ''When the ultimatum expires, quit sending any message. Go completely silent. I want us even quieter. They want an answer, let them eat cold static. They will get their answer when I choose to give it and not a moment sooner.''
''Yes sir,'' the Duty Lieutenant said, and spoke into his commlink.
The Admiral took another sip of coffee. ''Very good,'' he said to his Chief steward who'd brought it. ''You have outdone yourself. You and your men. Tell them very good for me.''
''I will, sir,'' the Chief said, nodded, and left.
''So, they are letting the liners go,'' the Admiral said. Bhutta nodded. ''Do you think even a Longknife would stoop to using a liner loaded with refugees, women, and children from other planets, to crash one of us?''
''Ray Longknife was particularly bloodthirsty during the Iteeche Wars. I wouldn't put anything past him.''
''I don't want to start this war by shooting up a boatload of civilians from a half-dozen uninvolved planets. Pass a message to the Captains. If a liner gets to within fifteen thousand kilometers of our ships, disable it. Every one of our ships sports a gunnery E. Let's show some of that expert shooting. They are to take out the engines without blowing out the reactors. Understood? I don't want any battleship crashed by a liner, but I don't want five thousand dead civilians splashed across the media either.''
''I understand, sir,'' Saris said as they entered flag plot.
''Sir,'' the lead technician said, standing from his workstation. ''The intel Chief said you will want to see this. Wardhaven is going to full defensive alert.''
''Show me,'' the Admiral ordered.
Like a puppy, the Duty Lieutenant was everywhere, trying to see and show everything at once. The Admiral saw in a second what he wanted. Normally, the space station fed power down the elevator to the planet's power grid. Now, that power line was empty. He didn't need intel to tell him the defenses of the space station were absorbing that power. Lasers whose capacitors had been bled off four days ago were now being charged. Yes, defenses were coming on-line.