''No, ma'am. Glad you weren't. You think I look bad. It was your desk the rocket took apart. Now you'll have to spend all your time walking around the yard.''
''Guess I will at that,'' Kris agreed. ''He going to be okay?'' Kris asked the medic.
''He will be, if he doesn't complain so much I slit his throat to shut him up,'' the corpsman answered.
''How about I entertain you with a few of my accountant jokes?'' Spens suggested.
''Where's that knife when I need it?''
Everything here as much under control as it was likely to get, Kris headed for her office. Ester joined her. ''I didn't know your folks had rockets,'' Kris said.
''The government arsenal kept a supply; they were not considered proper personal property.''
''And the arsenal?''
''It burned down about a month after the rain started.''
''Let me guess. There was no big explosion.''
The older woman nodded. ''The fire was surprisingly low energy for what the building was supposed to have.''
''Anyone used rockets since then?''
''No.''
''So there's a lot more out there.''
''I would imagine so, but have you taken note of what was done here? Only two rockets were fired. They hit your office and your guard tower. None hit where the warehouses had food. None hit the yard where people were working.''
''Selective shooting, and very accurate,'' Kris concluded.
''I believe so.''
At her office Tom was overseeing a hose team putting out the small fire that had finished what the rocket started. As Spens said, nothing remained of her desk; Kris now had a new window to look out. If she'd been here, nothing would have been left of her. Well, Auntie Tru, Hank Peterwald was the main reason I wasn't here. That prove anything to you?
It did to Kris.
''Any problems at the main compound?'' she asked Tom.
''Not a peep. Commander Owing is still sleeping off his five-martini lunch.'' Kris surveyed the fire team, more local than Navy. Jeb detached himself from a fire hose team.
''Most of us did volunteer time with the fire department.'' her foreman told her. ''We know what to do.''
''Do you know who did it?''
''Got the same guesses you do, ma'am.''
''Well, thank you for stepping in.'' Kris turned to Ester. ''Any of your folks feel the warehouse has gotten a bit too dangerous, I'll see what I can do to find them work elsewhere.''
Ester turned back to the fireman. ''Jeb, any of your folks want to take her up on that?''
''I'll ask around, but if they wanted to go, they'd be gone already. Most of us like what you did yesterday.'' He glanced at the fire. ''Obviously, not everyone.''
''They could have killed me,'' Kris pointed out.
''I know, ma'am. And if I find out who, I'll mention their names to you. But, at the moment, I don't know nothing, so there's nothing I can do.''
''Fair enough for now,'' Kris said. ''I'm expecting a lot of drop ships this afternoon. Some of them will have trucks and other heavy equipment. You know any drivers we can trust?''
''I'll send a boy into town to get a couple,'' Jeb answered.
So Kris went about the rest of her day as if it was routine to have her work spaces blasted to rubble over her lunch break.
True to his promise, Peterwald's next two drop ships deposited thirty large all-terrain trucks in Kris's yard. A third provided a crane truck and a half-dozen boxes whose instructions promised they'd open up into several water defeating forms. Kris gave Hank a thank-you call. He seemed delighted by her delight but made no offer to come down and share it up close and personal. His ship had a schedule change; Father was cutting short Hank's trip. There was some kind of trouble in the start-up.
Later that afternoon, Colonel Hancock gave a low whistle as he dismounted from his truck, moments after his supply convoy drove through the warehouse gate. ''Woman, you do insist on having all the fun, don't you.''
''Sorry about the mess, sir.''
''Casualties?''
''Three injured. One Navy, my accountant, Spens. My office was wrecked. The watchtower's sandbags seem to have cut down on the damage. A local engineering tech swears there's no structural damage.''
''So. You going to post guards up there tonight?''
''Yes, sir. I'll take the watch, with a couple of marines.''
''The marines will take the watch. You will not.''
''Sir.''
''Don't sir me, young woman. You may have forgotten, but I haven't. You are one of those Longknifes, and I have no intention of getting called on the carpet to explain to the prime minister, your father, how I got you killed.''
''You won't have gotten me killed, sir.''
''If it happens, it will be on my watch. In case you haven't noticed it, in the Navy, if it happens on your watch, you are responsible for it. I know that, in spades, Ensign. Now, how'd your time go with that what's his name?''
''Mr. Peterwald has been kind enough to provide us with thirty trucks and six convertible boats or bridges. He also took me off base for a two-hour lunch, which explains why I wasn't at my desk when it went to pieces.''
''Thank the gods for minor favors. You and he hit it off.''
''Better than I did with some of the locals, it appears.''
''Ensign, you will soon discover that it is a rare day when everyone is happy. You have one of those days, savor it.''
Kris chuckled. ''If I get one, sir, I'll take your advice.''
Colonel Hancock stayed with her as she checked in each of the convoys. He also checked out the new trucks. Local mechanics had already gone over them and pronounced them fit. Kris doubled the night shift so all the available rigs would be loaded up for tomorrow's run. The Colonel frowned as he took in the rolling stock. ''I hate to admit that I'm embarrassed by my riches. Until the Highlanders get here, I'm going to have more trucks than I've got troops to keep them rolling.''
''The Highlanders are due tomorrow, aren't they? I've already got four buses under contract,'' Kris said.
''I got word just before I left this morning that their transport blew two engines. They're having to limp across the last system and down here on half power. Expect them two, maybe three days late.''
''So we'll have food and transport but no one to move it where it's needed.'' Kris didn't like the taste of that in her mouth. There were an awful lot of hungry kids out there.
''Ensign, that NGO you're funding?''
''I didn't say I was funding it, sir.''
''No, you managed to overlook that bit of information when you were briefing your superior officer. Don't you think I can do a computer search as well as you can?''
''No, sir, I mean yes, sir. I mean…you know what I mean, sir.''
''I probably do. I was an only moderately subordinate second lieutenant once. Fortunately, I dodged the mutiny charge as well as I expect you will. Now, could you wrestle me up a dozen civilians who could keep any NGO gunmen in line and follow any orders they get from the likes of Owing and Pearson?''
''Ester and Jeb are pretty levelheaded folks. I've met a priest, preacher, a couple of salesmen I think have the respect of the locals and could get along with any decent Navy types.''
''l didn't say decent, I said Owing and Pearson.''
''Maybe Ester and Jeb should be assigned to them.''
''Then you'll have the base to yourself tomorrow, and I'll have just about everything in uniform on the road.''
A quick touch-base with Ester got Kris a list of folks who could ride herd on a batch of riflemen, as well as get along with their Navy coordinator. Jeb was out; he was a Quaker and would not carry a gun. Kris wasn't willing to put him out there without a weapon. Instead, he volunteered to work the warehouse all night to get the rigs loaded. A good day's work done, Kris headed back to base, Ester and two gun-toting women at her side.
''I can take care of myself,'' Kris told the older woman.
''I know you can. I'm just enjoying a nice stroll.''