''So we show them the door and take off on our own. We don't need a war for that.''
''You think they'll let us just walk? I hear they want payment for every ship we take. Full, brand-new price tag. Even the ones we bought ourselves. Earthies are brain dead.''
''And a war is going to leave a lot of people real dead.''
''What's the matter, Longknife, you afraid?''
''Addison, you ever faced a loaded weapon aimed at you?''
''No.'' That let some air out of him.
''When you've done it two or three times, I'll buy you a beer and we can compare notes. Until then, stow it.'' Kris cut off the debate and put down her cold coffee. ''Let's get back.''
The skipper cut them loose early that evening. ''Take a long, hot shower. Get some rest. We jump into the Paris system at oh nine hundred tomorrow. Things may get exciting after that.''
Kris headed for her room. ''Nelly, what jump will an oh nine hundred arrival use to get us into Paris?''
''Kilo,'' the computer answered.
''Have you picked up any news?''
''No. We have been too far from human space.''
The entire squadron was following each other through jump points without buoys. Of course, this far from human space, there should be no risk of running into another ship coming through the opposite way. No human ship. Right. This was way beyond weird.
''Kris,'' Nelly said slowly, ''you asked me to conduct my own searches and let you know when I find something that does not match a pattern I am familiar with.''
''Yes.''
''Right after the comm officer met with the captain, he loaded some new systems that are not active and which I cannot discern the purpose of.''
''Something that will put us on a war footing?'' Kris said.
''I have a list of all systems to be loaded when a state of war is declared. These are not part of them. I also cannot in any way interface with this software.''
''It's not running?''
''No, it is only sitting there.''
''Let me know as soon as it starts doing something.''
''I will.''
Kris knuckled her eyes with both hands, trying to rub away exhaustion; her brain felt half dead. All this had to mean something. Why would Father or Grampa Ray order Attack Squadron Six to take this roundabout way to Paris? Why would they want their best ships jumping into that system right beside the Earth battle squadron? Beside or behind? Assuming the Earth ships arrived a while back, they should have cruised over to meet the Rim squadrons and done whatever they intended to do. How do you haul a flag down on a spaceship?
Kris got this mental image of admirals standing around at attention, saluting in space suits while some poor spacer scraped the blue and green flag emblem off a ship's bow. Girl, you're punch drunk. A shower didn't help. She fell into bed and promptly went to sleep.
''Ma'am, you asleep?'' Bo asked her a hundred years later.
''I was. Something wrong?''
''Nothing, I guess. What you told the corporal, it was nice. I think it dumped about ten tons of fear off this boat.''
''That's nice,'' Kris said, pulling up the sheet.
''Word is we're going to get there tomorrow early.''
''Yeah.'' Kris did not want to wake up anymore.
''You know which jump point we're going to use?''
''Looks like the one my computer expected. Kilo, I think.''
''So we're going to jump right in on the Earth battle fleet. How do you think they're going to take it?''
''How should I know?'' Kris barely kept her growing frustration out of her voice.
''I sure hope there aren't any jumpy gunner's mates over there. Those battlewagons have lasers good out to a hundred thousand klicks, and we're going to be well inside that.''
Kris blinked and turned over. ''We will be, won't we?''
''Fifty thousand klicks is almost in range for our twenty-four-inch pulse lasers, ma' am.''
''Don't worry. What ship hangs out around a jump point? Those Earth battlewagons will probably be way to hell and gone over to meet the Rim ships. Figure some smart dude will have brought along a couple of barges of beer. Spacers from both fleets will be guzzling brew while their admirals talk nice.''
''I sure hope so, ma'am.''
''I thought you'd like a live shoot.''
''Be nice to know that all this training was for something, but ma'am, a war between us and Earth. God help us all!''
''Get some sleep, Chief. We all have to be our best tomorrow.'' And Kris rolled back over and tried to go back to sleep. But tomorrow's tactical situation kept floating around in her head. What if some twitchy gunner in the Earth fleet took a potshot at AttackRon Six? Well, that was what the smart metal was for, to protect them. Commodore Sampson would sort that out. That was nothing for an ensign to worry about.
CHAPTER TWENTY
''Twenty seconds to jump,'' Addison announced.
''Longknife, I want a full target display with ranges and bearings fifteen seconds out of this jump,'' Thorpe ordered.
''Yes sir,'' Kris said and checked her board. All range finders were on-line: laser, optical, gravitational, and radar.
They showed the rest of Attack Squadron Six in line ahead of the Typhoon. The flag, Hurricane, led Cyclone, Tornado, Shamal, Monsoon, Scirocco, and Chinook. Captain Thorpe was none too happy as tag-end Charlie. If the jump point moved suddenly, the Typhoon could miss it and have to make a go-around and hunt for it while the rest of the squadron was already on the other side.
''Are we on station?'' the captain asked Addison again.
''Within a kilometer, sir,'' he reported.
''Keep us right there.'' Kris watched the seconds until jump countdown…three, two, one. There was the usual disorientation in her inner ear. Her board went red as the receivers got no response to the various search signals they'd sent out only microseconds before. Kris blinked, and the board went back to green.
And reported more real targets than Kris had ever seen in any simulation.
Attack Squadron Six quickly deployed into a wedge attack formation. The Hurricane, as flag, held the middle with the second division's four corvettes echeloned out to the right, the flank closest to the Earth fleet, while three, with Typhoon at the end, swung out to the left. Kris took that in at a glance. It was the Earth Battle Fleet that made her fight to keep her mouth closed and her bladder under control.
Huge battleships, ice-armored three meters thick against lasers, were arranged in eight stately rows of sixteen, gleaming in the light of five distant suns. Without a moment of willed thought, Kris's hands went through the drill, establishing range and bearing, correlating that with her own ship's movement, seeking firing solutions. The Earth ships accelerated at a steady quarter g; they did not maneuver, did not stray from their line ahead. In ten seconds, Kris had them dialed in.
When orders came from the Hurricane, assigning the Typhoon four specific targets, it took Kris less than ten seconds to identify them, establish distance, and assign one to each of the Typhoon's four pulse lasers.
The reactor of the small fast attack corvettes didn't have the capacity to recharge lasers like the big cruisers and battleships; however, storage capacity technology had come a long way since the Iteeche War. The Typhoon stored energy enough for nanosecond-bursts from her four massive twenty-four-inch pulse lasers. Again, because of the small size of the corvette, the laser was short. This didn't allow for the near-perfect concentration of the sixteen-inch lasers on the battleships, but for the 40,000 kilometers until the energy beam diverged, the pulse laser of a corvette was as good as any battlewagon's main battery. Better, as far as Captain Thorpe was concerned.