''We could have called you, sir. Asked for your advice. At least kept you informed of what we were doing. I didn't think about driving up here like you did, sir, but maybe if we'd kicked things around a while, we might have thought up that idea. But sir, we didn't have the lift crane for moving the bridges on and off the trucks. I'm not sure we could have done that, sir.''
''But you didn't think about it then, did you?''
''No, sir.''
''Why?''
''Kris said to take the boat, sir, and I followed her lead.''
''You followed her, without question.''
''Yes, sir,'' Tom said.
Kris knew that wasn't quite true. Tom had griped, questioned, complained, but she'd ignored him. Ignored him just like she always did.
''You'd follow her if she led you into hell.''
''Yes, sir.''
''Or off a cliff.''
''Or up one, sir.'' Tom actually managed a lopsided grin.
''You listening to this, Ensign?'' Kris had the Colonel's full attention again, but she was busy digesting what Tom said.
''Yes, sir.''
''You hearing it?''
Kris took a moment before she answered. ''I think so, sir.''
''You are a leader. Probably the best damn leader this lash-up has. You filled a vacuum I let happen. For that I bear a great degree of responsibility. However, young woman, you can never slough the responsibility for the leadership you provide. From the moment you set foot on this planet, you've been leading. People who were bitter or lost or struggling on their own found they could trust you to lead them. That's the way it's supposed to be. But damn it, woman, you're in over your head. You are an ensign in the Navy. That means a lot, but it doesn't mean anywhere near what you, Ensign Longknife are making it mean.''
Kris had done her best to follow the Colonel, but somewhere in there, he'd lost her. ''Sir, I don't understand.''
''You are a Longknife. You don't have a choice. That's what Ray Longknife said after he killed President Urm. ‘There was no alternative.' That's what your Great-grandpa Trouble said after he took a battalion up Black Mountain and kicked a division off it. Just like Tom here learned from his grandma that there were always choices, you learned at your great-grandfathers' knees that there are no other choices.''
''That's not true, sir. I can count on one hand the number of days I've seen Grampa Ray. And Grampa Trouble is my mother's least liked man in the universe. He hasn't been in our house since I was twelve.'' And he saved my life. ''The whole reason I'm in the Navy is to get away from being one of those Longknifes. Sir.'' He wasn't being fair to her.
He didn't know anything about her. And he probably didn't care, either. Kris put down her hardly touched mug of coffee, folded her hands, and prepared to ignore the rest of what Colonel Hancock of machine-gun-crowd-control fame had to say.
But the Colonel said nothing.
Instead, he leaned back into his seat and studied her for a long moment.
Outside, the rain was still coming down, making the truck's cab rattle like a drum. The driver and his mate carried on a conversation mainly of ''There's a big rock.'' ''Watch that hole!'' ''That mud looks too deep, go right.''
Kris was tired … exhausted by the day and drained by the Colonel's critique. She just wanted Hancock to finish his say and let her get some sleep.
Then the Colonel smiled.
''Family is a strange thing. I remember visiting my old man when my son was seven or eight. I can count on one hand the number of days my dad spent with my son. But I kept having to swallow a smile that weekend. You see, my son had mannerisms just like my dad. Now, on a seven-year-old, they were cute, kind of rough and jerky, but looking at my dad push his hair back just so or tug at his ear just the way my son did tickled me. Funny thing was that, as I said, my son and dad hardly ever saw each other, so I kept wondering how they got the same mannerisms,'' the Colonel said, brushing his hair back with his right hand, then tugging at his ear. Almost Kris smiled.
''Your son got your dad's mannerisms from you,'' Tom said.
''Yeah, and, of course, I don't live in front of a mirror, so there was no way I could notice what I did. But my son did. And I guess I noticed what my dad did.''
''But not consciously,'' Kris said.
''Never consciously.''
And Kris unfolded her arms, ran a nervous hand through her hair, and started thinking out loud. ''I remember Father telling parliament that they had no choice but to keep capital punishment on the books until Eddy's killers swung at the end of a rope. I can't count the number of times I heard him say, ‘There are no other options.' That was the way he'd send me off to a soccer game. ‘Win. There is nothing else.' ''
''You couldn't lose?'' Tommy asked, incredulously.
''Not as far as my father was concerned,'' Kris assured him. Then she frowned at the Colonel. ''But sir, when I first saw the base, it was a mess. I knew we had to do something about it. I knew we had to clean up the mess hall, improve the chow. The alternative was just to wallow in the mud.''
''Yes, and you did good. Thank God you did what you did. You've given me a second chance. You've got my command moving up, rather than lying on its back looking up. You've fed a lot of people. You chose right that time.'' The Colonel held Kris with his eyes. They were just as demanding, but somehow not as hard as they had been when he'd climbed in the rig.
''This time I chose wrong.''
''Yes.''
''But how do I know when I'm gonna be right and when I'm headed up a cliff?'' Kris demanded.
The Colonel leaned back in his seat and snorted. ''That's the question every ensign wants answered.''
''And…'' Kris insisted.
''With luck, you'll have a pretty good handle on it by the time you're a full lieutenant. You better know it damn good by the time they pin eagles on your collar.''
That only added to Kris's confusion. ''Sir, that doesn't answer the question, does it?''
''No. You've got to find the answer yourself. Better yet, the answers. There're a lot of answers you think you know that you don't.''
''Sir?'' That one really puzzled Kris.
''Who killed President Urm?'' the Colonel asked Kris softly.
Kris blinked and said the first thing that came to mind. ''My Great-grampa Ray.''
''Right, it was in all the papers. Not a history book disagrees. How much have you read about that operation?''
''All the books, I think. The city library had a couple of bookshelves on that war that I went through when I was thirteen.'' And drying out.
''But you've never read the classified post-action report that Army Intelligence did, have you?''
''If it wasn't in the library, I guess not.''
''You're cleared for it. It's old news now. Next time you get close to a secure station, call it up.''
Kris didn't want to know later; she needed to know now. She was about to have Nelly get it any way she could, when Tommy leaned around her. ''Colonel, what does it say?''
The Colonel chuckled at the unexpected source of the question, but he went on. ''It says that Colonel Longknife and his wife Rita have got to be two of the gutsiest people in the universe. They flew halfway across human space with a bomb, then carried it through the tightest security devised by man up to that time. And they did it calm and cool as you please, never giving anyone a hint of what they were doing. Not the crew of the ship carrying them and not the security guards they walked through. Damn, that's guts.''
''So they did kill President Urm,'' Kris said.
''It would seem so. But there's a few questions the poor intelligence weenies writing the report couldn't answer. As a visitor, the Colonel was seated about as far from the podium where Urm was presiding as the security guards could get him. Yet the autopsy report says the bomb went off right in the president's face. There were flechettes that went in the front of his skull and were halfway out the back.''