''But battlewagons like those slagged whole planets in the Iteeche War. I don't want them over Wardhaven, not with my sister and her kids on the ground under them.''
''Prepare for two g's in five minutes,'' echoed down the former liner's halls from the public address system.
''I'll help you get that cot made up,'' Bo offered. ''Not a hell of a lot to do for the next two days. Think I'll sleep. No use risking my back, not when the first live shoot of my too damn long career may be coming up. Besides, if I know Captain Thorpe, he's going to have all kinds of hairs up his ass. Doubt if we'll get an hour's sleep in twenty-five between reporting aboard and…whatever.''
Kris followed the chief's lead, catching up on her sleep, following the news, and reviewing the manuals on her battle station. It had been a four-day trip, Cambria to Wardhaven. It took two days to get back. Still, it wasn't fast enough for the skipper.
''What took you so long?'' was the captain's greeting as Kris and Tommy reported to the Typhoon's bridge five minutes after coming aboard.
''Damn luxury liner didn't want to do more than two g's,'' Kris offered, while taking her place at defensive systems. ''You know how civilians are, sir.''
''How come you two didn't get out and push?'' the XO asked. Kris suppressed a shake of the head. There were hard cases, and then there were very hard cases.
Captain Thorpe eyed Kris as she brought up her station. ''I'm surprised you bothered to join us, Ensign Longknife. I figured you for a cushy staff job.''
Kris turned. ''I was offered one, sir. I turned it down.''
The skipper raised an eyebrow a fraction and glanced at the XO. ''So, you wanted to be on the best ship in the fleet when the shooting starts.''
''I told a general that he'd want the best ship to be the best it could be when he needed it, sir.''
''Okay,'' the captain said and actually seemed to be enjoying himself in Kris's presence for a change. ''I liked the fitness report I got from Olympia.''
''Colonel Hancock sends his compliments, sir.''
''Good man. Got a bad rap. He says you handled yourself very well in some tough firefights.''
''I did my best, sir.''
''Ready to smash Earth battleships headed for Wardhaven?''
Kris took a deep breath. ''Yes, sir,'' she said, giving the short, crisp answer the skipper wanted. Any prayer to avoid war was out of place on a fighting ship's bridge.
''Good. I want you and Ensign Lien to trade stations.''
''I'm not trained on weapons, sir.''
''No one on this ship is combat trained on any station as far as I'm concerned,'' the captain growled. ''But you will be. Lien, out of there. Let's see how good Longknife is at a shoot.''
So Kris moved forward to the offensive weapons station just in front of the skipper and beside the helm. Tommy didn't actually show relief as he moved to the defensive station behind and to Kris's right. Kris had never told Hancock about Tommy's problem with his weapon, but she doubted anything got past that Marine Colonel. And nothing got by the captain.
Thorpe synced weapons, helm, and defense together into a simulation; hostiles appeared just at the limit of the Typhoon's sensor range. When Kris asked how they got there, the captain snapped, ''It's my job to get you targets. It's your job to smash them.'' So Kris and Tommy and a new ensign with lightning reactions, Addison, went through the simulation, twisting and turning, dodging and charging, until the hostiles were dust in space and Kris's hands were knotted on the controls.
''Now do it again.''
So they did. Off the bridge, Kris could hear the crew going through every possible drill, from hull breach to reactor containment failure. Only once did she hear abandon ship; that one must not be very popular with the skipper. On the bridge Kris went through problem after problem, gauging targets with hostile intentions and getting lasers out there to thwart them.
It was very late by the ship's clock when Kris went looking for her bunk.
And reveille was at oh five early the next morning. Kris showered, dressed, gulped down breakfast, and was on the bridge by 0600. And the simulations began again. ''You're taking too long to blast those bogies. I want them dust in fifteen minutes from first contact. Addison, be more aggressive. Longknife, you're using too many ranging shots. Don't waste energy bracketing the target. Hit it.''
Easier said than done, Kris could have said. Was the bogie closing or opening the range? But she kept her mouth shut and spent a bit more time evaluating the targets' behavior next sim. Yep, the skipper had them just as gung ho as he was. The next two sims all had the enemy closing fast. Kris was right on with her first shot the next time.
''Good going, Ensign. Think like they do.''
''If you assume they're going for your throat, sir,'' Kris risked.
''If they aren't, Ensign, it's their funeral. There's only one rule in war. Hit them first. Hit them hard. Anything else just makes for more widows on our side.''
''Yes, sir,'' Kris answered, the only answer he'd accept.
''When are we going after that Earthy battle fleet?'' Addison asked.
''As soon as they give us orders, Ensign,'' the skipper assured him.
''Those old Earth tubs are taking long enough.''
''I hear their engineering is lousy.'' The XO grinned. ''Had to cut to half a g to keep all those clunkers together.''
''But let one or two of them shoot their way into orbit, and there won't be any High Wardhaven, any space elevator, or many people left below,'' the captain pointed out.
Of course, Kris thought, Earth could have slowed her ships to half a g to give the politicians more time to sort this whole mess out. She kept that thought to herself; she was on a warship, and its job was to defend Wardhaven. The skipper was making this tip of the spear just as sharp as he could. Kris wasn't about to do anything to dull it.
At noon, while the crew was at mess, Thorpe ordered Tom to convert the Typhoon to battle configuration.
''Longknife, look over his shoulder. I don't want to spend the next week finding the mop closet.'' The skipper eyed the XO when he said it, so Tommy didn't lose his usual grin. Still, he worked slowly and methodically as Kris joined him at his station. He went down the check sheet without a word from Kris. This was a standard reconfiguration; it had been done often enough that it should go flawlessly. Prework done, Tom reported, ''We are ready, sir.''
The skipper nodded to the yeoman of the watch. ''All hands, stand by for reconfiguration,'' she announced. ''Watch standers take your places.''
''Make it so, Ensign,'' the captain ordered, and Tommy started tapping keys on his workstation. With most personnel at chow, the mess facilities were locked in place. Next, Engineering shrank. Then the outer berthing areas pulled in as spacers' double staterooms became berthing areas of eight, and the ship's diameter began to fall by half. All through the ship, spacious hallways became much more cramped passageways. Storage rooms with wide aisles became smaller. Lastly, the radiation bulkhead between the rest of the ship and engineering thickened, and the ship lost a good twenty meters in length.
''Now the Typhoon's a real warship and a damn small target,'' the captain growled happily. ''Yeoman, have all hands check for missing spaces and report them immediately to Ensign Lien. Ensign, don't waste time trying to get it right a second time. I like Longknife's solution. Empty any wayward spaces, delete them, then re-create them in the right place.''
''Yes, sir.'' Tommy said with a wink for Kris. Maybe she'd already been headed for the captain's good graces even before Hancock's fit rep.
Thorpe stood. ''Bridge team, take thirty minutes for chow. You've handled those easy problems fairly well. Now let's see how you do on a few moderately complicated ones.''