Kris eyed the only slightly controlled rage on the other captain's face. ''Is your Surprise rigged with such capability?''
''Hell no,'' he shot back. ''It would be a violation of Society of Humanity rules as well as Greenfeld regulations. For the last sixty years, since the old Canopus blew up herself and half the Borden station, it's been illegal. A hundred thousand died in one second.''
Kris walked away from the two captains. One offered a solution … that might be suicide and murder. The other offered no solution … and demanded that this one not be tried. Kris found herself staring at a very pale Victoria Peterwald.
''Vicky, what do you think?''
''I don't know what to think, Your Highness.''
''Talk to me, Vicky. I need to know something about what you're thinking.''
''Okay, Kris,'' the young woman said, and took a deep breath. ''I want to save my dad. Other people may hate him, but he's my dad. Maybe not the best one around, but he's all the dad I have. How do we do it?''
There it was. A plea from a younger Peterwald to save the elder. A plea made by a Peterwald to a Longknife. Capulet to Montague. Do I accept it? Kris asked herself.
Stupid question. Her head was in the same noose. Let that starship smash into South Continent, and there'd be rocks and wreckage all over the place. Not to mention certain gun-happy fellows in black uniforms oh so certain that Kris had caused it.
With a sigh, Kris winked at Vicky. Watch and learn, my friend. She whirled to face the captains.
''Captain Krätz, how long would it take one, just one of these ships hanging on to this station to get under way?''
''Twelve hours. Maybe more. This station is a piece of shoddy junk. We'd have to jump up the electric production to get the containment field of a ship up and running, then get a containment chute from the station's reactor to the ship. Most of the plasma would cool in the chute, so it would take a lot of plasma to get the reactor critical. Then you've got to grow the reaction mass, get your own electricity generators going.'' Krätz's voice trailed down into a whisper as he spoke. He finished shaking his head. ''Some son of a bitch set us up.''
''So, you are set up,'' Kris agreed. ''Somewhere about two-thirds of the way into powering up one ship, her dad gets suddenly dead. Out of curiosity, what happens next? Does your ensign get promoted to First Citizen?''
Vicky's eyes got wide with that question. The captain studied the polished toes of his shoes. ''I don't know. You know our attitude toward women.'' Now his gaze rose to take in his JO. ''But I'd fight to my dying breath to protect you.''
''I don't want your dying breath,'' Vicky snapped. ''I want to save my dad.''
The captain's shoulders slumped. ''That I cannot do. No one in the fleet can do that.''
''But someone in the Wardhaven fleet is willing to make a good solid try,'' Vicky growled low. ''A Longknife is willing to risk her neck to save a Peterwald!''
''And maybe kill us all.''
''You just told me that I'm not likely to outlive my dad for more that a couple of months. Strange, Captain, that is one thing we can agree on. Maybe someday I could tame the Palace with a whip and a gun and a gallows working overtime, but not now. Not today. We need to save my father.''
Vicky opened her arms, pleading, ''Captain, please help these people save him.''
''And if they fail?''
''None of us will be any deader than we're likely to be this time next year.''
For a long moment, Captain Krätz continued to shake his head. Then he turned to Kris. ''Your Highness, what can I do to help?''
49
One did not often get permission to blow up a space station and the squadron of ships attached. Kris felt no sense of elation, since that was a prospect she hoped to avoid.
She turned to Drago. ''Get this ship under way—ASAP.''
''Aye, aye, ma'am. I have had men stripping the antimatter pods from the landers. They should be done soon.''
''Two have been off-loaded, Captain,'' Sulwan reported.
''Have them plugged into the emergency generators,'' Captain Drago ordered.
''No,'' came from around Kris's neck. ''The pods that will be fed into the reactors need to be carefully aligned and balanced for the dump,'' Nelly said. ''That's your critical path. The auxiliary power is pretty much a standard rig.''
''Captain?'' Kris said, raising an eyebrow. Around her, quite a few eyebrows were bouncing off the overhead.
''Let's do it the lady's way,'' he ordered,
''Nelly, are there any scientists that can help you on this?'' Kris asked her computer.
''A few; I've alerted them to get down to Engineering. There are several assumptions about the status of the antimatter that we will need to create if they are not already so.''
''You go, gal,'' Kris said, then, confident that the technical was in the best putative hands available, she turned to Captain Krätz. ''Certainly, we'll have to advise the port authorities that we are getting under way.''
''Even a blind man would notice what we're attempting.''
''When do we have to tell them?''
The captain mulled Kris's question for half a second. ''Usually it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission.''
''So I've observed,'' Kris agreed.
''However, I'm not sure that I'd apply that rule, what with all the security paranoids running around the station just now. Sudden moves could have very immediate and violent results.''
''If you say so.''
''Let me talk to my political officer,'' Krätz said, and tapped a few buttons on his wrist unit. ''Sooner or later we'll have to bring them in on this.'' Nothing happened for a long moment, leaving the captain frowning at his wrist. ''What call is he taking that is more important than mine?''
He was still frowning when a hurried voice came on. ''Sorry, Captain, I have Lieutenant General Boyng on the line, sir. May I pass him to you, sir?'' hardly sounded like a question.
Captain Krätz turned white as a sheet. Behind him, Vicky went up on tiptoes with glee. ''Uncle Eddie. He'll help.''
Those two reactions told Kris all she needed to know about this new man walking into her life.
''Put the captain's call on-screen,'' Kris ordered.
And found herself facing a thin-faced man whose appearance could make a hatchet look dull. His pristine black uniform was crisp, with more sharp edges than military law allowed. Kris went down his ribbons … they told her nothing. Greenfeld State Security's awards had nothing to do with the rest of their military.
Kris made a mental note to herself to save this call. Ten to one, this would be the first time Admiral Crossenshield got a look at his opposite number.
That, of course, assumed Kris got out of here.
There was no time like the present to start getting out of here. ''General, I am Lieutenant Longknife, Princess of Wardhaven. I and my staff have been examining the behavior of the starliner Dedicated Workers of Tourin. It is our opinion that it is on a suicide dive into South Continent, intent on assassinating your First Citizen. It must be stopped.''
Kris paused. She was getting no reaction from Hatchet Face. No reaction at all. You'd think that announcing a plot was afoot to kill someone's beloved boss would get a blink.
Not from this guy.
''Go on,'' he said.
Not on my dime, Kris thought. ''What conclusions have you and your staff drawn from the behavior of this starliner?'' This is a conversation we're having. I talk. You talk. Didn't your mother teach you anything?