''Don't you just hate it when things are like that.''
''Thorpe doing any orbit changes?'' Kris asked.
''We've slipped sats into orbit ahead and trailing us. Not so much that he'd see them, but enough so we'd know if he tried anything. So far he's just doing the merry-go-round thing.''
Kris thought for a moment. ''Keeping them in the dark about Jack is one thing. I don't like it cutting both ways.''
''What do you have in mind?''
''How about a wide beam? Broadcast your picture of those broken-down trucks over all of the settlement area. Let everyone know their problems. Also, resend that invasion footage. Jack might as well see that everyone he's facing isn't as hard a case as some. He'll know what to do about that.''
Which gave Kris another idea. ''And while we're at it, maybe you could patch together some of the conversation I had with Thorpe. Let's let anyone listening on an open channel know that the times, they are a changing.''
''Will do. I've got one of mFumbo's techs working on that.''
''Time for me to go back to playing the strong, silent type. Kris out.''
And Kris returned to watching the path ahead of them, swaying with the rig … and weighing what move to take next.
She certainly had knocked over the apple cart with that last set of orders. The folks of Panda had gained time by going silently to ground. It must have stunned Thorpe and Cortez. It certainly had messed up their plans.
But now silence was helping the invaders as much as it harmed them. So long as the resistance knew of nothing going on, it could hardly be a resistance. Not an effective one.
Sooner or later Thorpe would start ferreting out those in hiding. If the resisters did nothing to support each other, they'd go down, one by one. Kris and her Marines were unexpected. The question for Kris was what to do … and when?
Part of that was solving itself. As she moved south, Cortez swung his forces north. There would be a meeting engagement somewhere along that line of march. First with Jack and his crew. Then with Kris and all.
The deal was to meet up with Cortez when Jack and Kris's forces were together. Cortez of course, would do his best to avoid that. Kris wanted one thing. Cortez another. That was usually when battles occurred. Or elections. Kris had chosen a profession that did the battle thing. Despite her father's strong opinion on the matter, she still thought she'd chosen the wiser.
Drago made his broadcast just before the Wasp sank below the horizon. Strangely, it spurred no reaction from Cortez. She'd figured him for a shoot-from-the-hip man, but he kept silence.
''Nelly, Mark the time of Drago's broadcast.''
''Yes, ma'am. May I ask why?''
'' ‘Cause, sooner or later, someone is going to say something about my loud and blunt declaration. It would be interesting to see how long a decision cycle the other side has.''
''I see,'' Nelly said. ''I should start timers on things like that. That way, I can answer your questions faster.''
Another lesson for the kid/computer around Kris's neck.
The Polska place came into view. The ''huge'' garage turned out to be dug out of a hill about a klick from the homestead.
''Come winter, you ought to see how the wind blows the snow,'' Jamie tossed out when Kris looked quizzically at the place. ''All the barns are like this. You don't want to freeze the tits off your goats, or fingers off your hands. Makes for cool when it's hot and warm when it's freezing. Oh, and makes for one lousy set of targets when invaded,'' the kid said with a grin.
And two big strapping Polska boys were out in front of the barn, holding its doors wide and waving the small convoy in. Kris was safely out of view from overhead surveillance a good two minutes before Thorpe's star rose over the horizon.
20
''And they broadcast that on an open channel! To everyone,'' Thorpe said, struggling to keep his voice under control.
''Yep,'' Colonel Cortez replied. ''I think she's trying to raise the countryside. Get a real rebellion going. We'll have to slaughter a whole lot of sheep putting it down. You got any problems with me getting the captured townspeople organized into groups of ten? They kill one of my men, I kill ten of theirs.''
''No!'' came as a scream over the net.
''Who said that?'' came from both Thorpe and Cortez.
''I said that, Benjamin T. Whitebred. Those town folks are the artisans, the technical experts. They're worth money. A farmer whacks one of your pogues, you whack as many hayseeds as you like, but don't go knocking over people we're going to need to keep this colony earning money.''
''Who gave you access to this channel?'' Thorpe asked, voice low and cold. Two armed guards and the comm officer kicked off from their bridge positions and headed aft for Mr. Whitebred's stateroom. Thorpe mashed the mute on his commlink. ''Don't hurt him, but bring him up here. Now.''
Finger off the mute button, Thorpe continued his talk with Cortez. ''Did you see the way the pictures had been processed. That original feed from our landing. Rerun it,'' he said to the 2/c sailor who had taken over the comm slot.
The picture of the white berets marching ashore reappeared. Now there was a commentary block over them. ''Note that White Hats have no armor,'' followed at the end of their scene by ''And they can't march straight. Can they shoot straight?''
''That sure looks like an incitement to rebellion to me, Hernando.''
''That's what I'm thinking,'' the colonel said. ''It's bad enough to have half my transports broken-down, but to have them pointed out to the locals, oh man, William. They're either laughing at us for being too dumb to drive … or inviting any local kid with a slingshot to go out and hit us. I've got to do something about that.''
''I know, Hernando, believe me, I know. That Longknife girl enjoys yanking a warrior's chain. We need to give her a good solid yank ourselves.''
''Yeah, like a short noose over a tall tree,'' gave them both a chuckle.
Which Thorpe swallowed quickly as the guards dragged Whitebred onto the bridge. As they did, they liberally bounced him off of the bulkhead, overhead, and deck. The civilian fought them, yanking on the three-foot tethers, one to his left wrist, the other to his right ankle. The guards must have had plenty of practice at moving resisting sailors in microgee. Each would glide from one handhold to another, give him a yank while they were secure, then take off for the next grip.
Whitebred bounced off of anything that got in his way and never succeeded in getting a purchase anywhere. It was pathetic for a grown man to be so helpless. Hadn't the man spent any time training in microgee? What was he doing in space?
The guards found themselves handholds, one on the deck, the other on the overhead, and maneuvered Whitebred to a position where he gently twisted in the wind. Occasionally he faced Thorpe directly. Any half-trained sailor would have known how to cancel his rotation, face his captain, and take his dressing down like a fighting man.
Not Whitebred.
''What were you doing listening in on my command channel?'' Thorpe demanded.
''I represent the money, buster. We listen in on anything we want to,'' would have been a whole lot more effective comeback if Whitebred hadn't been twisting his head around at all kinds of odd angles as he struggled to keep eye contact with Thorpe. Did the bloody fool have any idea how ridiculous he looked? He must have heard the bridge crew snicker at his empty claims.
As much as Thorpe hated playing to the crew, the civilian was challenging him as captain. This could not be allowed.
''Steady this fish you've landed,'' Thorpe ordered the guards.