Nelly interrupted with, ''The official report from Earth is that the fleet is coming to Wardhaven to participate with the Rim worlds in officially dissolving the Society of Humanity.''
''You don't need a battle fleet to haul down the flag.'' He shook his head. ''I know there are Earth types terrified of what our rim expansionists might wander into out in the galaxy. Have they got the upper hand back there? Is Earth willing to use force to keep us in the Society?'' Grandpa wondered.
''But they're just a faction, like our unlimited expansionists. They couldn't be calling the shots. This fleet has to be what they say it is?''
Grandpa shook his head. ''Whatever it is Earth wants to say, they're saying it all wrong.''
''Excuse me for interrupting again,'' Nelly cut in. ''All fleet personnel have been recalled to duty.''
''Thank you, Nelly,'' Kris said, then looked at her Grandfather, ''but to whose fleet?''
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Three hours later, Kris had her duffel packed and led Tom down the central stairs of Nuu House. A hastily contracted liner was scheduled to depart High Wardhaven in three hours for a two-g run to High Cambria. If they rushed, they could be back aboard the Typhoon in two days.
As Kris crossed the foyer, she found marine guards still at the doors of the library, but the doors were thrown open wide to facilitate the constant flow of officers and messengers. She paused for a second. Yes, Grampas Trouble and Ray were in there, surrounded by stars and eagles and civilians that must have rated just as high. It looked like Tru at a workstation in the back of the library, but Kris wasn't sure. Trusting humanity was in good hands, Kris turned for the main door.
''Wait a second there, Ensign,'' came through the library doors in General Trouble's command voice. Kris kept walking; she wasn't in his chain of command. Pity the poor ensign who was, and made the old general shout.
''I mean you, Ensign Longknife. Halt.''
Kris halted, set down her duffel, and waited. ''I'll tell Harvey to wait for you,'' Tom said and left.
''Where you headed?'' Grampa Trouble asked as he pulled in range of a normal voice.
''Back to my ship,'' Kris answered; then, because she couldn't suppress the question, she said what every spacer in the fleet was asking anyone handy. ''Is there going to be war?''
''Your dad has me and Ray and a hell of a lot of good people doing our damnedest to see that there isn't,'' he said. They stood there, each measuring the hopes and fears in that statement; then Trouble started gnawing on his lower lip.
''Listen, Kris, we're putting together a staff here. They're also recommissioning anything that can hold air. I understand they're even trying to haul out my old ship, the Patton. You hang around the staff here for a week or so, we might be able to get you an XO slot on a destroyer or something. Same for Tom.''
Kris forced her breathing to stay even. Was Grampa trying to get her and Tom out of harm's way? Was it that bad?
''Is the Earth fleet really an invasion fleet?''
The old general gave her one of his patented shrugs. ''God only knows, and she ain't talking, at least to the likes of me. No, we don't know any more about which Earth faction is calling the shots than you hear from the news' talking heads.'' He scowled at the lack of real information in all the noise.
Kris took a deep breath and shook her head. ''General Grampa, the Typhoon may be small, but she's the best you have. When you send her where you need her most, you're going to need her the best she can be. I may be green, but I'm a hell of a lot better prepared than any shiny new nugget would be.'' Then she shrugged. ''Besides, it's my turn in the barrel.''
''Be careful, kid.''
''You mean don't do anything you'd do?''
Grampa Trouble swallowed hard on that. ''Don't do anything stupid. Our families have all the medals gathering dust that we need. Remember, half of what you read about us in the history books were lies.''
''Maybe poorly researched,'' Kris answered, ''but not lies. Next time I'm home, why don't you and Grampa Ray walk me through a few of the more interesting stories?''
''It's a deal, Ensign. You come home, we'll have a long talk.'' And Kris discovered that ensigns could hug generals, and if the marines standing guard or anyone passing through thought different of it, well, they could just drop and give the old general fifty push-ups.
Kris got to the elevator to High Wardhaven on time.
Only military traffic was going up or down; still, it was standing room only on the ride up. Kris was early enough to get the last seat. Then she gave it up when Commodore Sampson came through the door at the very last moment. Standing in the aisle, Kris remembered reading that it was illegal to have more people on an elevator pod than there were seats; the rule was forgotten today. That was when it hit her. The safe bets were off; someone really expected a war…and soon.
The Happy Wanderer had been hastily converted from a cruise liner to a troopship. Kris was lucky; she drew a one-person room with a single bed. The two ensigns across the hall were none too happy to be sharing one bed. Still, there was a cot in the corner of Kris's room; she waited to see who her travel mate was and couldn't suppress a grin when Chief Bo showed up at her door.
''Didn't know they were putting chiefs on the beach.''
''Weren't,'' Bo said, dropping her duffel. ''I was on leave, visiting my sister and her family.'' The chief glanced around, her nose twitching like she was smelling something foul. ''Didn't anyone tell these people that chiefs and officers don't mix?''
''I suspect they're happy if they keep boys and girls out of the same staterooms. This is a kind of rush job.''
''Yeah,'' the chief frowned at the cot. ''Which bed you want, ma'am?''
''I'll take the cot. At two g's, a younger back can handle the cot better.''
The chief gave Kris a canted scowl but didn't argue. As she stowed her gear, the chief asked over her shoulder, ''What you hearing about the war, ma'am?''
''Some good people are doing their best to see it doesn't happen. What are you hearing?''
''I didn't have to pay for my beers last night. Lots of loudmouths saying it's time we show those Earthy flakes a thing or two. Course, none of them are on this transport.''
''They flocking to the recruiters?''
''Doubt many would pass. Not tall enough for their tonnage,'' Bo chuckled, then got serious. ''Saw where Ray Longknife and General Trouble were back on Wardhaven. They some of the good people you were talking about?''
''Wouldn't deny it to a friend, but wouldn't say it to a stranger,'' Kris dodged. She also didn't mention the staff offer.
''Your old man is doing the political two-step. I listened to him for five minutes last night. Couldn't tell if he was for or against us blasting that battle fleet out of space. Politicians,'' the chief spat.
''He's just trying to build a consensus,'' Kris explained.
''He better do it quick, ‘cause I hear the Earth Battle Fleet is on its way.''
Kris collapsed on her cot. ''This is crazy. Yeah, Earth has a lot of big ships with big guns, but none of them have been up to speed since the Iteeche War, what, seventy years ago. In college, I knew this kid from Earth. His dad runs a steel mill in orbit. Once a year he and his mill workers man a squadron of old battleships, them and a thousand welfare types doing their annual active duty. As my friend described it, they go aboard, make sure there's still oxygen, then see if the boards show green lights on all the gear. God only knows what they'd do if they got a red one. Chief, this kid's dad gets to be a reserve vice admiral. Most of his plant foremen are captains. It's all a big show. If it came to a fight, the Typhoon could probably slag three or four of those battlewagons without breaking a sweat.''