''It's the second load,'' the Nuu Docks man said. Kris wasn't sure if he was helping his case … or digging his hole deeper.
''It would be really nice if we could get under way sometime this year,'' Tom said almost wistfully.
''She'll answer orders when you give them.''
''Nelly, message Roy. Please stock spare parts aboard tugs for PFs' engines, lasers, and electronics. Empty the warehouse. It ain't gonna do us any good there if we need it out yonder.''
''He got it. His initial reply is obscene, but he's ordering the warehouse to ship it all to the tug landing.''
''Thank you, Nelly,''
''Aren't you worried about message intercept?'' Tom asked.
''By now there must be enough traffic in and around this station to flood their comm gear. I figure they'll crack my message about five minutes after I blow them out of space.''
Tom grinned along with her as they climbed back to the bridge. Penny looked up as they arrived. ''Good. I was about to send for you. We have a message to all hands.''
''Put it on the main screen.''
A stranger appeared, identified as Admiral Pennypacker, chairman of the Joint Staff. ''Wardhaven's defenses are fully alerted. We are about to launch a strike force from High Wardhaven to intercept the intruders. In response to our ultimatum, they have gone silent and increased deceleration. If that signals their good intent, fine. If not, let them know that Wardhaven will defend itself with all its power.''
''Now doesn't that really stir me blood?'' Tom brogued.
''Not,'' Penny said.
''Can you raise the Halsey on secure landline?''
''You got it,'' Penny answered.
''Sandy, what's your take on Pennypacker's announcement? Is there anything nice about what the intruders are doing?''
''In Pennypacker's dreams. By doing some extra slowing down now, they can flip ship later, protect their jets from us when they may need to, and not overshoot the station. They've also gone even quieter on the emissions controls. Just six big, deep holes in space. They're telling us as little as they can. Not the kind of behavior you like from friendly visitors.''
''Pass the word. We got our hunting license. We're legal. Battlewagons are in season, and we can bag the limit.''
''Happily. I'm sure Luna and van Horn will be delighted.''
Kris rang off, fished in her pocket, and turned to Tom. ''I have something for you, Commander 109. It didn't seem right that you should be going into this fight the only JG commanding a boat, so the Commodore got van Horn to cut your promotion papers. Congratulations, Lieutenant. Penny, you want to do the honors?''
''But it's been so pleasant having him serve under me,'' she pouted, but she was up, coming around her station, and removing his shoulder tabs and putting on the new ones Kris had brought.
Honors done, Kris settled into her chair. Her board showed reports from the 109. She revised it to show input from the whole squadron. Babs's 111 was down for engines … again. Gates was just reporting a new capacitor installed … again.
It was time to get things organized. ''Phil, you lead First Division, with 101, 02, and 03. Chandra, you have Third Division. Take 104, Babs, if she can get 111 away from the pier—''
''I'll sail if I have to push it,'' came from Babs.
''And Heather's 110 boat. Stick close to Chandra, Heather. I've got some wandering planned for Division 3.''
''This ramblin' frog's gonna be right on your old tail,'' Heather promised the mustang.
''The rest form Second Division with 109. We'll start it close and tight,'' Kris went on. ''Let them see as little of us as possible while we're getting away from the pier.''
''So, when do we get out of here?'' Heather shot back, probably speaking for all of them.
''In about two hours,'' Kris said.
''Two hours. We'll all be old and gray. And some of us could have grandkids.''
''Two hours. Sit tight. Wait,'' Kris repeated.
''Fix an engine,'' came from Babs.
''Repair a capacitor,'' echoed Andy.
Wait.
15
Contact: -7 hours 30 minutes
''Nothing ever goes according to plan,'' Kris muttered to herself. She'd heard Father say it about political campaigns. Grampa Ray and Trouble had laughed about it in battles … in retrospect. Now Kris saw it in spades. It was one thing to plan on hiding behind passenger liners. Another thing to do it.
''Say again, port control. You want us to do what!''
''Pride of Antares, you are cleared to withdraw from the pier, but you will hold at fifty klicks, trailing the station.''
''We'll be in zero g.''
''Yes.''
''I got a boat full of kids, women that aren't used to zero g. Hell, I got junior officers and stewards that ain't been in zero g more than ten seconds. How long you want us to hold?''
''About an hour. Maybe a bit more.''
''How about I either boost at one g straight for Jump Point Alpha or stay tied up here for an hour, a bit more?''
''Pride of Antares, I have twelve liners to get away from this station over the next hour. My board shows you hull tight. I'm activating your tie-downs.''
''And if I just kind of put on one g and head out of here?''
''May I remind you that you are in a Wardhaven Defense Primary Control Zone and all our lasers are charged.''
''You wouldn't.''
''Pride of Antares, I'm having a very bad day. You really want to see how much I'll do that I'll regret to tell my wife about tonight?''
''Would you mind telling me what's going on here?''
''Not on an open channel.''
''Kris,'' came from Sandy over the landline, ''I think its time we show the passenger liners why we want them where we want them. And maybe some encouragement to do it.''
''Sounds like a good idea to me. I was bored hanging around here anyway.''
''Okay, folks. Final briefing. I am Task Force Horatio, ships one through six. Kris you've got Task Force Light Brigade.''
''As in ‘Charge of.' ''
''Glad you read your Tennyson. One through twenty-seven at last count. Depends on who gets away from the pier.''
Numbers appeared on Kris's command board. Her PFs were matched through twelve, then different yachts.
''Captain, you're Task Force Custer. One through eight.''
''Understood.'' There was a pause. ''My Army associate tells me that Custer bought the big one. As in massacred with all hands. This your idea of a joke?''
''Only for those who crack our codes. And speaking of, Beni tells me, Kris, that your Tom has a synchronous transmission he wants to make to help us keep communications confusing to our enemy. Want to send it, Tom?''
''Sending.'' There was a pause. ''Done.''
''When are you going to play it on battle net? Beni's got my curiosity up.''
''Wait for a while. We're not desperate enough.''
''And I thought you PF jockeys passed desperate weeks ago,'' van Horn said dryly.
''We just plumb that depth deeper and deeper, sir,'' Tom answered back.
''And if the children will let us get a word in, I propose we begin backing out. Horatio, Custer, then Light Brigade. We big boys will take station inboard of the liners. You little folks take station inboard of us.''
''You mean closer to Wardhaven?'' Kris said.
''You got it.''
''Begin sortie now,'' Sandy said.
''Kris, may I send my data dump to Tru now?'' Nelly asked.
''Yes, Nelly, it's that time. But tell Aunt Tru not to look at it until we get back.''
''And if we do not?''
''That is something we humans do not look at until we have to,'' Kris said.
Captain Luna glanced around her bridge. A week ago it had been spick-and-span. Now it had wire runs taped down and running every which way. Still, it was the Archie and responded to her orders. She tapped her ship's comm. ''Let's put the spurs to her, boys. Navy, grab a seat or get ashore, ‘cause this boat is going places.'' Her board showed green. The hull was tight. Power was good… on both reactors. The pier tie-downs began to move the ship backwards. The last tie-down clicked, and the ship floated free in space.