For longer than Kris would have expected, Nelly was silent, then the large screen changed. ''As you can see from the three stars that became occluded between the first and the sixth picture under consideration, the passenger area of the hull is indeed starting to roll to the right.''
''Our analysis showed that,'' Colonel Cortez said, ''but we were not able to calculate the impact that skid would have on the hull of the Tourin. Applying the spin data that the scientists found to the expected behavior of the reaction mass in its tanks, what would be the effect on the ship?''
''No one has ever calculated that on a ship at such a high level of acceleration and inertia,'' Nelly said.
''Yes, we know. Every computer aboard declined this problem as having too many variables to track and taking too long. Do you think you can do it, Miss Nelly?''
''Let me try.''
Kris glanced at her watch, then tapped its options to stop-watch and started a clock running.
''Baffles,'' Nelly said. ''Did the Tourin have any baffles in its fuel tanks to control splashing?''
''Yes,'' Captain Krätz said, ''but they were all arranged to control slop fore and aft, not in any other direction.''
''Oh,'' Nelly said. ''That is not good.''
''Not at this speed,'' Krätz agreed.
Nelly went back to gnawing on her modeling problem. Kris glanced around the room. Sometime during the last eternity, Vicky had come in and made herself small in a chair against the wall behind Abby. Vicky tossed her a look, as if expecting to be shooed away, but begging for a chance to stay.
Kris dredged up something like a smile, and Vicky settled back, relieved.
Kris's brain spun, hungry to force a conclusion from the data laid out before her but wanting to wait until everything was there. Her belly was a vacuum, threatening to swallow her up, spin her away to somewhere where she was nothing and no one.
Kris Longknife held on to herself with her fingertips and felt the blood begin to flow as her fingernails dug into the flesh of her hands, her fists were clinched so tightly.
With a deep breath, she forced herself to relax. Fists, arms, legs, belly. For a moment, she swayed, about to fall, but she tightened up just enough to keep herself on her feet.
How long can a computer take to solve a simple problem in hydraulics? Kris demanded.
It's not simple. It's never been done before, she snapped back at herself.
''This solution is not pretty,'' Nelly said, ''but I think it conveys the general results.'' A schematic of the Tourin appeared on-screen. Fractions of seconds ticked off as the ship heeled. Then it seemed to right itself as the second set of jets was shot off. But the slow spin ground on, now adding a twist to a hull more and more out of alignment. Within the huge reaction tank, a tsunami formed, slamming itself first against one side of the tank, then another. Chunks of tank wall broke off. The tidal wave shot off needles of water that speared into the rest of the ship, taking down walls and girders.
For two, three seconds, the ship came apart until, finally, the crushing wave of reaction mass blew out the bottom of the tank, slammed into the reactor containment equipment, and let loose the plasma to devour the wreckage.
''Either way, the ship blows up,'' Kris said, her voice dead with exhaustion.
''I should have recalculated my assumptions,'' Nelly said, ''once the scientists told us the ship was under spin.''
''I didn't tell you to, and I didn't think of it,'' Kris said.
''None of us did,'' Captain Drago said.
''None of us wanted to admit what that meant,'' Vicky said.
''That any way it went, five thousand people were doomed.''
''The only question was if my dad died,'' Vicky added.
''And we had a horrible, horrible war,'' Kris said.
Vicky walked over to stand beside Kris. ''Once State Security let those hijackers board the ship, take it over, every solution involved deaths. Lots and lots of them.''
''Don't let General Boyng hear you say that,'' Captain Krätz said. Vicky said nothing.
55
The Wasp returned to High Birridas at a gentle one gee. That allowed plenty of time for matters to develop on South Continent. A hurricane blew itself out. Several plots to kill Henry Smythe-Peterwald were uncovered. Some people sang under interrogation, leading to further arrests. Others died.
Kris wondered what leads died with them.
Vicky sent several coded messages to her father. She got several replies. Kris personally made sure all copies of those messages were wiped from the Wasp's logs.
Call it professional courtesy, one princess to another.
Kris seemed to be getting along very well with the scion of the Peterwald family. Just how good was quickly put to the test.
No sooner had the last pier tie-down locked on to the Wasp than the State Security colonel demanded to see Kris on the bridge. See her with his entire detail backing him up.
''Ignore him,'' Vicky said.
The look on Captain Krätz's face did not agree.
''It's critical that you get in touch with your father,'' Kris said. ''Captain Krätz, can you get a security detail up here from your ship?''
He tapped his commlink. Then shook his head. ''I'm jammed.''
''So are we,'' Captain Drago said, answering Kris's question before she asked it.
Kris reached for the Greenfeld ensign. ''Vicky, if something happens to you, I won't have a chance. Jack,'' Kris said, turning to the Marine captain.
''Kris, I'm your security chief, not hers.''
''But my safety lies with her. See that she gets back to the Surprise. I don't care if it takes Gunny and half the Marines, but get her home safe.''
There was noise at the bridge hatch; Kris had just enough time to organize a bland face for herself … ignoring the near mutiny on several others … before the colonel in State Security black marched onto her bridge.
No, not marched; it was more a confident prance.
''Longknife, you will accompany me,'' he demanded.
Kris considered the prospects of bloody slaughter on her bridge, then dismissed them. They were pinned to the wharf. Breaking free unaided from pierside would be nearly impossible. Kris would not leave Marines and Navy on the pier so that she could escape.
Still, there was room for drama. Why not make him earn his pay? ''And why should I accompany you?'' Kris said.
''Shall we start with the murder of five thousand loyal citizens of the Greenfeld Alliance and destroying a million-ton liner.''
An ensign began to open her mouth; a far from gentle nudge in the ribs from her captain shut her up. Vicky fumed.
The colonel ignored the ensign. Why did Kris suspect that was a mortal mistake?
''Your attitude intrigues us,'' Kris said regally. ''It pleases us to go with you. May this ship depart in peace?''
''The sooner the better,'' the colonel said, playing into Kris's own hand.
She turned to Drago. ''If I'm not back in three hours, go. Alert Wardhaven and both my grampas. General Trouble should enjoy this place.''
''Your call, Your Highness, but maybe you better take this,'' he said, and handed Kris a large envelope.
''What's this?''
''The conclusion of the board, suitable for framing, and all the supporting documentation.''
''It won't matter where I'm going,'' Kris was pretty sure.
''We're stalling for time, right?''
Kris let State Security escort her from her ship. Along the hatchways, sailors and Marines were conspicuous by their absence.