''So that's what a signature Longknife job looks like.'' Hank breathed slowly.
Chapter 25
''Grab anything handy,'' Kris shouted as she poured more plasma into her engines than she wanted to. Now was no time to blow out her reactor by using so much plasma that when the flood of cold reaction mass she was pouring in met what little plasma was left, the critical core temperature would plummet below the fusion level. Maybe not, but I need to move now!
The ship—correction: Barbarossa, Hank's yacht—took off with a lurch, sending Jack, Abby, and Hank to their knees. As Kris balanced reactor temperature against acceleration against a rapidly closing wall of gas and wreckage, the new arrivals crawled for seats: Hank on Kris's right, Jack right next to him, Abby next to Tom.
''What are you doing with my ship?'' Hank asked, proprietorship showing as he strapped himself in.
''Trying to stay ahead of that mess,'' Kris answered, just remembering to change my ''mess to ''that mess.'' Now was no time to bring Hank in on all she'd been up to of late. Boys tended to be slow and so excitable about such things.
''What happened?'' Hank breathed as he took in the screens.
''Some sort of industrial accident I would guess,'' Kris evaded.
''And you're just running off in my ship.''
Kris eyed the reactor and upped the feed from the fuel tanks. ''It seemed like a good idea at the time, and it was available.''
''Yes, there were only four or so guards protecting it. Father warned me you Longknifes have a very lackadaisical view of property rights when it suits you.''
''Sorry if I disappoint you,'' Kris said, cutting the main engines and rotating ship so the power plant and engines weren't in the direct path of the fast-approaching shock wave. It did put the command deck face into it.
''Hold on, folks,'' Kris shouted. The wave front hit, slamming them against their restraints as it shoved the ship back, then sideways, trying to roll it. Gyros struggled against the forces arrayed against them. Kris added her own efforts to the battle, hitting the overrides and raising the power of the control jets, sending them more reaction mass, more electricity.
The ship held steady… or close enough.
Now came the big stuff. Chunks of station. Hunks of ships. Girders, walls… blessedly, Kris spotted no bodies. Now the control jets slid the ship up or right, left or down as Kris played a lethal game of dodge it.
''Alpha, gamma, seven, seven,'' Hank muttered in incantation beside Kris, ''Omega, zed, epsilon, one, nine, eleven,'' he finished, and the board in front of him came to life. ''Extra armor to the bow.''
Eyes on the wreckage coming her way, Kris asked, ''What are you doing?''
''I'm no Navy type like you, but I like to know enough about my ship to keep my hide in one piece when it matters. This is a smart metal ship, and I think I just thickened up the bow.''
''Tom, I've got the conn. Slave your station to Hank's and see what you can do,'' Kris ordered. Tom's assigned station on the Typhoon was defense.
''I'm locked out,'' Tom shouted.
''I grant open access to all stations,'' Hank said.
''I'm in,'' Tom said.
''We're going to take a hit down our right side,'' Kris shouted.
''I'm on it,'' Tom said, hands dancing over his board. The ship shuddered, then groaned as the glancing blow Kris had settled for tumbled down the right side of the hull.
''Damage?''
''I'm fixing it,'' Tom answered Kris.
''Good man,'' Hank whispered.
''Not a bad ship. Not bad at all,'' Tom said, giving high praise for a space born.
''Cost enough it ought to be,'' Hank said through gritted teeth as Kris slammed the ship sideways. A tumbling ship's stern, laser cannons twisting at the end of cables, struck a glancing blow.
''I'm on it,'' Tom said before Kris got a word out.
Kris took a moment to expand her collision avoidance screen. It looked clear, but she needed a bigger picture. ''Anyone at a sensor suite station?'' she asked and got no reply.
''My code should have released the entire command deck,'' Hank said, glancing around. ''Isn't that a sensor suite your man is seated at?'' he said, waving at Jack.
''I wouldn't know a sensor suite from a luxury suite,'' Jack grumbled.
''I'll slave the station next to me to that one,'' Penny said. ''Yep, it's sensors. Kris, I'm sending you the overview screen.''
A screen opened at Kris's left elbow. It rated more space than life support at the moment, so Kris squelched them to expand the view. The area was a mess, about what she'd expected. She spared a quick glance at the station. The thick wall she'd sliced through to get her nanos in had channeled the explosion out, not up or down. The Hilton was probably well shaken, but it and the rest of the lower station still sat atop the beanstalk. The Top of Turantic was also there, now floating above a big chunk of empty space but holding on to a few tenuous connections to the lower station.
The explosion had blown outward as Kris intended. She hoped that didn't exhaust her supply of luck for today. From the looks of things, she'd be needing a whole lot more.
A cruiser was making its way through the devastation, headed her way.
''Penny, anything new from Sandfire?''
''Nothing.''
''Prepare to rotate ship. Let's get out of here.'' Kris spun the ship, picked a potential jump point, checked to see how much the reactor had heated up while she was using the lateral jets, liked the temperature she had, and put it to good use. ''Here comes two g's.'' she told her crew.
''And here comes Sandfire,'' Penny announced.
''Put him on main screen.''
Sandfire didn't look nearly as imperial strapped into an acceleration couch. It had been a rush job, two of the straps twisted, Kris saw. He'd be in for a miserable time at high g. His eyes were wide, his coloring florid. A vein on his forehead throbbed, but his words were no less demanding. ''Surrender, take all acceleration off your ship and prepare to be boarded.''
Kris shook her head. ''Sorry, Sandfire, I've let you run me in circles long enough. I'm leaving your little trap.''
Sandfire strained against his straps as he tried to get closer to the camera, loom larger on Kris's screen. That vein was pounding out a wild beat. ''Refuse my orders, and I will blast you out of space.''
Hank coughed twice. ''Cal, this is my yacht, and I am on it. You will not fire at me or it.''
Sandfire took Hank's mild words like a slap. He sat back in his seat for a moment, eyes going wild. Then he smiled, or let his lips turn into what Sandfire passed off as one. ''You're a hostage.''
''I am not a hostage.''
''You're a hostage of that Longknife terrorist and Smythe-Peterwald policy is never to negotiate for hostages.''
''I assure you, Cal, this may not be the evening I had intended to share with Miss Longknife, but I am in no way a hostage. Considering what just happened at the station, she may have saved my life.''
''She's the one that blew it up,'' he screamed. ''She's the one that nearly killed you and did kill thousands of workers. Ask her. You ask her. Those damn Longknifes have done it again. But this will be the last time that one does anything.''
Kris tried not to react. She'd done everything she could to get people out of her target. Everything possible. What could she answer Hank?
But Hank was less interested in Kris than he was in his own man. ''Cal, you need to calm down. I know the expansion on the station was your project. But I'm sure you insured it. You've been working hard on your Turantic projects. Don't let this one setback interfere with your overall business plan. Write it off, move on. There's more money to be made tomorrow.''
''What would you know, you spoiled brat.'' Sandfire spat the words at the screen. Kris measured the arcs the spittle made, then glanced at her board. Yep, that cruiser was accelerating at two g's. She edged her acceleration up to two and a half.