Ron turned to Steve. ''She's talking about what you told us.'' The retired officer nodded. ''I'll move to incorporate the Chance Security, Entertainment and Tourist Society just like you said.''
''Entertainment and Tourist Society?'' Kris said.
''What does any sailor on leave want?'' Steve answered. ''A drink and some fun. Our local pubs will provide the drink. Entertainment may take some work. So, this society will provide for both our common defense… and the sailors' liberty and pursuit of happiness. Not bad, huh?''
''Maybe to protect a planet, but…'' and Kris let them in on the secret she'd discovered. ''Lots of traffic will be passing through Chance in the near future. You're going to be big.''
Ron rubbed his eyes with both hands. ''The only thing worse than a Longknife bearing bad news is one with good news.''
''I'd like to keep this discovery a secret until we can go at it logically, rationally.''
''Thank you for showing some common sense,'' Ron drawled and turned to Steve. ''Go with her. Set our defenses up as best you can. I'm still not willing to call out the militia. Can you do it with the Society?''
''So long as Peterwald doesn't know anything, nothing's changed,'' Steve said.
''Let's keep it that way.'' Ron turned to go his way. Steve and Kris turned to go theirs.
Kris flew the shuttle back up with Steve Kovar beside her. Chief Beni was waiting for them when they docked. ''Nothing from the ships. They're still quiet as a tomb.'' Then he spotted Steve and snapped him a salute.
''You don't salute us old farts,'' Steve said with a laugh.
''I do when there are six warships headed my way.''
''Good idea,'' Kris said. ''But not formal policy.''
Steve introduced the woman at his side. ''Chief Ramirez was my personnel honcho. I stretched her into just about everything that didn't involve the actual hands-on killing of something.''
She offered her fellow chief a hand to shake. ''Took all the fun out of a Navy career, dang it.''
''Don't know about you, but I'm kind of glad to have a specialty that don't involve getting killed,'' said one of the few survivors of the gallant Halsey.
Kris frowned. ''I've heard it said that you had a few volunteers working around the station. Wouldn't let them join the reserve. Are these the folks you're sending up?''
''Nope,'' Steve said. ''No militia. They did their time. Besides, if I'm not careful, those enthusiasts might start saluting you. Obeying your orders. No, these are just simple workers, used to giving the foreman back talk when he deserves it. Maybe filing a grievance or two if things get too rough.''
Kris schooled her face to neutral, but that might not have been the best approach. Steve went on. ''And if you start bossing people around like a tin-horn god, you can expect them to down tools and walk, maybe take your entire shift with them.''
''Tell me,'' Jack said. ''Assuming Kris treats these employees as contractors, who does she talk to, maybe suggest things, occasionally plead for help when things get desperate around here, as they so often do around her.''
''Thank you for that question, Jack,'' Kris growled. ''But just now I want you and Beni to hustle over to the Comm Center. I don't want anything going out of here that talks about anything we are doing. Check the buffer on the jump buoy and erase anything that looks suspicious. You understand?''
Jack did. He and Beni trotted off.
Kris turned back to Steve, ''How do we make this work?''
''I'm your main contact point, Lieutenant. I'll honcho one shift myself. The chief here will take another. I've got two other chiefs that will stand in for the last shifts. We'll be the cushion between you and the worker bees. That acceptable?''
''Will be when they get started,'' Kris said.
''Ramirez, is the first crew on their way?''
''The reactor start-up team should dock in fifteen minutes. They added a tiger team of reactor repair crafts in case the reactor gets balky coming on-line after all this cold time.''
''Good,'' Steve said. ''I'd expect initiative from that crew.''
Which turned out to be just the ticket they needed as things slowly went down hill.
The reactor failed to light on the first try. And second. When the third time failed, a reinforced crew was requested from the power companies running Chance's reactors. The crew that was due to bring up the automatic weapons and security net were given a pass. And Kris began to wonder if her station might fall by default to a team of Peterwald Girl Scouts selling cookies.
''A watched teapot never boils,'' the reactor engineer said, making shooing motions. ''This kettle ain't gonna boil any faster with you two looking over my shoulder. There's got to be something insignificant somewhere you can micromanage.''
Steve and Kris backed out of his domain. ''Old Walt is someone you have to know for a while to appreciate.''
''And after I know him for a while, will I appreciate him?''
''More or less,'' Steve said with a shrug.
Kris spent all of a second prioritizing the thousand things she needed to do, came up with a ''not yet'' on all of them, and headed for the forward end of the station.
''I'll dock the Greenfeld ships far forward,'' she told Steve. ''Care to walk around what they'll be looking at?''
They walked along Deck 1, the station curving away to their right and left, the stars visible through the window in the forward bulkhead of the station. Kris wanted to better know her informal deputy; she started with a soft pitch. ''Is there any way we can get the locals to get our ranks right? I mean, it's nice to be breveted up to commander, but I've earned these lieutenant bars on my collar.''
''What makes you think they're promoting you?''
Kris eyed Steve for a second… and stayed puzzled.
He chuckled. ''I mean, who says it reflects anything on us. It's their district. How do you think they feel with a lowly lieutenant. They rate an admiral. A captain at least. What do they get. Me.'' He grinned. ''You, at least, are one of those Longknifes, so that's something. But you're still a lieutenant. So they call us commanders. Get used to it.'' He shrugged.
''That's not something I thought much about,'' Kris said.
''Well, it took them a year or two, and quite a bit of grousing, to start calling me commander. I tried not to take it personal. Then I married one of them and it all made sense.''
Kris doubted she had the years, or the prospects of a husband, so she'd just have to adapt on her own.
''Besides,'' Steve went on, ''don't you have papers to commission that hunk of tin we got parked aft. Commission her and you brevet to captain, don't you?''
''Just commander, and I will not commission the Patton.''
''Why not? From what I hear, she can actually hold air now,'' Steve said with a wide grin. ‘''They've got a trickle feed on the reactor. She's making her own power. What with six Peterwald ships in the system, why not commission our own little cruiser?''
Kris whirled on Steve, her face warm with an anger she didn't understand. ''I will not commission that ship. Not with that bunch of optimists and dreamers that are crawling around her. They asked to make her into a museum. I'll let them have their museum, but they will not sail that collection of spit and glue and bailing wire anywhere, for any reason.''
Kris shivered, both startled… and shocked at herself. She spun on her heels and quick-marched for the bow. Steve had to hurry to catch up with her.
''Hey, young woman, I don't know what I just set off, but I want you to know that I was not fishing for what I hauled in.''
Kris slowed. She needed this fellow if she was going to get anything done here. ''I don't blame you,'' she said as he rejoined her. ''I won't blame anyone. With luck, I won't blame myself.''