Behind Kris, the bridge hatch opened, and the marine platoon filed in, taking stations against the rear bulkhead. In full battle kit and armor, they looked as out of place as Kris had been at Longknife Towers in shorts and a sweatshirt. Captain Thorpe nodded at Gunny, then tapped his commlink.
''All hands, this is the captain. Today, we show Earth the mettle of Rim humanity. They have held us down for centuries. Here, today, we throw that yoke off. I have been informed that as of now a state of war exists between the Rim worlds and Earth and any other planet too decadent to stand against that tyranny. You have your orders. The Typhoon is the best in the fleet. Let's show them what we can do. Captain, out.''
With a tight, proud grin, Thorpe turned to Addison. ''Close with our assigned targets.'' Now it was Kris's turn to get the full power of her captain's attention. ''Longknife, you may fire when the enemy is at twenty-five thousand klicks.''
''Yes, sir,'' came automatically from the helm and Kris.
Without thought, Kris's hands went into motions, checking targets, verifying the rate and angle of closure. The Earth ships didn't alter speed or course in reaction to the arrival of Squadron Six. They were making it easy.
Easy? Too easy!
Kris's fingers raced over her board as her mind raced as well. War! We are going to war! What changed the prime minister's mind? What could make Grampa Ray or Trouble give up on a peaceful solution to this mess? Where was a news feed when you needed it? ''Nelly, get me some news,'' she subvocaled. Hell, with all the ships here, there had to be a dozen news packets broadcasting in real time.
''All channels are jammed,'' Nelly reported.
''Jammed! Who's jamming?''
''The flag is jamming all traffic to and from the squadron.''
''Even on Wardhaven command frequencies?'' That wasn't standard procedure!
''On all,'' Nelly reported. Kris gnawed her lower lip. She was about to go to war. About to attack Earth's fleet! And for the first time in her life, she knew complete zip about what was happening. No, she knew the most important data there was. She knew her father and her grampas. Would they do this?
''Nelly, tap into the ship's message traffic, there's got to be some explanation to these orders.'' Kris had never been one to do what she was told, at least not until it was explained. This, of all things, needed explaining!
''Attempting.''
''Sir,'' the communications officer's high-pitched voice got the skipper's attention real fast. ''Someone is trying an unauthorized access to our communication logs.''
''From where?''
''Inside the ship, sir.''
''Track them down,'' Thorpe ordered. ''I want to know who it is. Gunny.''
''Nelly, stop,'' Kris snapped subvocally.
''Yes, sir,'' Gunny acknowledged, coming to attention.
''Prepare to dispatch a team to chase a saboteur. You may shoot on sight and shoot to kill,'' the captain growled.
''Sir. Corporal Li. You and two others.'' Li signaled two privates, who moved with him at the hatch, ready to respond.
''Comm,'' the captain demanded.
''Access was repelled, sir. Whoever it was dropped out immediately.''
''Let me know the second it comes back.''
''Nelly, what happened? I thought Tru gave you everything you needed to hack into anything Wardhaven has.''
''She did, ma'am,'' Nelly sounded hurt by this rebuff.
''But the Typhoon's net is being monitored by Ironclad Software. I think that is the system I told you about last night.''
''Never heard of that outfit.''
''They're a small company on Greenfeld that never tried before to increase its market share outside that area.''
Greenfeld. Peterwald's home! What was nonstandard Smythe-Peterwald software doing on a Wardhaven ship? A Wardhaven ship about to go to war!
''Range to targets?'' the captain demanded.
''Forty-five thousand klicks,'' Kris reported with the part of her that was Typhoon's offensive weapons boss. Around the Hurricane, the other ships of the squadron spread out.
Kris checked her targeting assignment. She had a column lead…that would be the squadron flagship…and the fifth, ninth, and thirteenth ships behind it. Those would be the division flags. Her shots would decapitate an entire squadron. She checked the other corvettes; each had a similar assignment. With four shots from eight ships, Fast Attack Squadron Six would render 128 battleships either wrecks or leaderless.
''Weapons. Status,'' the captain demanded.
''Four pulse lasers ready and dialed to full power,'' Kris reported automatically, her mouth almost too dry to talk. ''Capacitor fully charged. We can reload one laser immediately. Three more in seven point five minutes, sir.''
''Reload Laser One immediately. Target the last ship in our assigned column. We'll show them the Typhoon can get five battlewagons with four pulse lasers.''
''Yes, sir.'' Kris said, fingers moving to obey.
Something is wrong here! a voice yelled in her head. Those battleships aren't expecting an attack. Is my father ordering a sneak attack? Would Grampa Trouble do this? Kris couldn't answer that. Did Grampa Ray give President Urm any chance at all? No. But those ships held troopers just like him, even if they were Earth conscripts!
''Nelly, can you pick up any communications?''
''Nothing.''
Would Trouble who went up Black Mountain, Ray who fought Earth, then Urm, then the Iteeche, fight like this? Would her father? They were Longknifes. They would not give orders like these! So what do you do, kid?
Tommy says there are always options. She glanced over her shoulder; he was looking wide-eyed at her. Colonel Hancock, I'm not seeing a lot of options here. She checked the range, coming up on forty thousand klicks. Not much time to make an option. So, Kristine Anne Longknife, what do you do? We're here to keep a fleet from slagging Wardhaven. This fleet is a threat. A threat…here! Hanging around its jump point!
''Sir,'' she said softly, ''there's something wrong.''
''What?'' Captain Thorpe snapped.
Kris stood, fingers still resting lightly on her battle board. ''This situation, sir.''
''What situation?'' Puzzle only slightly marred the captain's confidence.
''This is a sneak attack, sir.''
''Of course it is. You want to give that massed firepower a shot at Wardhaven? Sit down, Ensign, you've got your orders.''
''Yes, sir. But orders from where? The prime minister doesn't have an underhanded bone in his body. I know. He's my father. If he fights you, he does it up front and in your face. And these ships, sir. They're not making any effort to threaten our fleet. Our planet.''
''Targets, forty thousand klicks,'' the helm said. Each moment put them closer to a shoot, closer to massacre.
''What's the matter, Longknife, don't have the guts for a fight? I should have known. Gunny, remove this coward from my bridge.''
You just made a big mistake, Captain. You made this personal. Kris turned to the marines; not one had moved from the bulkhead. ''Am I a coward? I jumped with you. Without me, half of you would have burned on reentry. Without me, all of you would have died on that minefield. I was the first in the door, and the first to the girl. Was that the act of a coward? Is standing here a coward's act? Captain, these orders did not come from the prime minister of Wardhaven. Where did they come from?''
''From the only people who have a right to give them, you spoiled brat,'' the captain snarled—and let his temper give her the only chance for legitimacy she could hope for.
''Those orders come from the people with the guts to take what you money-grabbing wimps have hoarded for yourselves. You have no use for duty, honor. You let power lie around, wasted. Well, some of us know how to use power. There's Earth's power, sitting fat and dumb. In one minute we're going to blast it to bits. How's that for power?'' Thorpe raised his fist. ''And if Earth comes back, we'll blast them again. We've had enough of being your bootlicking dogs, Longknife. Now we'll do what is right. Gunny, shoot that dog.''