''I'll check on that,'' Kris said slowly. ''If we managed our power carefully, we might bring up some of the gun stations a few at a time for testing, then close them down.''
''I'll see that you get extra antimatter,'' Marta said.
Kris eyed the map with its Oktoberfest and games. ''I take it this is your answer to the last part of Hank's transmission to me, the part about his boys getting rambunctious if they don't get shown a good time.''
''Yeah,'' the Chief of the Peace said. ''Normally they say visitors are like fish, they smell after three days. This guy ain't even here yet and I'm detecting an unpleasant aroma.''
''Watch it, Gassy,'' Hans said softly. ''We don't want feelings like those showing through.''
''I know, I know,'' Gasçon said, eyeing Marta. ''We don't hold against this bunch what we may have heard through the news. But can I hold against them what I'm seeing right now?''
''The plan is to smile, smile, smile,'' Marta said. ''It's harder to invade a planet that's smiling at you. Don't give them an excuse to do something we'll all regret.''
The others around the table nodded along with Marta's words, which Kris suspected by now must be an oft-repeated mantra. She'd been taught in OCS that hope was not a plan. She weighed Chance's plan and found it loaded with a whole lot of hope. It was clear that one Longknife was going to have to provide the iron to counterbalance all that hope.
''If you've got the party well in hand, and I've got some power options to look at, I'll head back upstairs.''
''Kris,'' Ron said as she turned away. ''You did bring your dancing shoes and a couple of nice party dresses, didn't you?''
''And if I did,'' Kris answered noncommittal.
''We figure the officers won't be all that interested in seeing how much beer they can guzzle and still toss a caber. We're planning some social events that will equal the best you ever saw on Wardhaven. Thought you might want to give your maid advanced warning to get the swirly stuff ready. I've heard a lot about your maid. Abby's her name, isn't it?''
''Yep, and I'll tell Abby to get ready to do that princess thing she does so well. That is unless you think I should leave the tiara in the box.''
''Oh no.'' Marta grinned. ''That'll be half the fun. Seeing who fawns all over a bit of royalty, and who doesn't.''
''I've used the princess card for a lot of things,'' Kris sighed. ''This sounds like it will be a whole new gig.''
''I get the first dance,'' Ron said as Kris headed out.
Kris didn't look back. ''You and Hank can arm wrestle.''
''Well, at least that Marine won't be ahead of me in line,'' Ron called after her. Almost, Kris turned back to see the look on Ron's face. Was he joking? Or actually glad to be considered ahead of Jack on Kris's dance card.
A lot was going to be revealed come tomorrow night.
Steve Jr. was waiting outside to take Kris back. And he did get her back safely to the shuttle, if a bit worse for the experience. Strange how a battle-hardened vet could find riding with a teenaged driver a terrifying experience. Course then, enemy fire and a spun-out car left you just as dead.
The shuttle had extra antimatter, as promised, and a couple of passengers. Most looked like craftsmen and -women to go with the toolboxes stored in the proper bins. One was older, grayer, and carrying a nicely sized potbelly. And though he wore a plaid flannel shirt and jeans, Kris greeted him with ''Hi, Chief.''
''You're not supposed to know. What gave me away?''
''Well, you're wearing an old Navy-issue belt.''
''Lot's of folks do. They're cheap.''
''Yeah, but others don't have a razor sharp gig line.''
The old chief sucked in his gut and looked down. Shirt, edge of buckle, and fly were so straight, they could have been done by a theodolite. He hitched his belt around, disrupting the perfection of habit. ''You won't tell the commander, will you?''
''Mum's the word. What part of my station are you going to look at.'' Kris didn't emphasis the ''my'' in station, but she got it out there in clear sight.
''The auto guns. That's what all of us are here for.''
''News travels fast,'' Kris said.
''This is Chance, ma'am. Everybody knows everything.''
Kris delivered them smoothly to her station, arranged with Tony Chang to have two of his boys get the other auxiliary power station up and running just as soon as the lunch rush was over, and headed for Engineering aboard the Patton.
''Was expecting you,'' a woman said as Kris entered the other holy of holies aboard a ship.
''Everybody on Chance knows everything,'' Kris said.
''Glad you're getting the hang of the place,'' the gal said with a grin. ''The second reactor is dead, but the first is running solid, and I'm expanding the racetrack to give us more power and feeding it up the line to the station's capacitors.'' Electricity to run the ship and power the lasers came from sending plasma through a magnetic field. When the ship was doing 1 g in space, there was plenty of juice. When the ship wasn't under way, there was a, usually small, racetrack they ran a trickle of plasma around. Kris hadn't heard of anyone expanding the track, but she was glad this woman could.
''The capacitors should be full in a few hours,'' the woman went on, ''but there's enough for Chief Tando to bring up guns. If the station needs more power, we'll give it.''
Kris didn't want to ask the wrong question, but if everyone knew everything… ''Do you know how things are going with the station's reactor?''
The engineer shook her head. ''They had a major failure last time they tried to bring it up. This station was in need of major work when they shut it down. They've ordered some parts, but they'll have to be machined from scratch. I'd expect the reactor to be on-line by noon tomorrow.''
So everyone didn't know everything. ''The ships are arriving before noon.''
''I'll pass that along. We'll need to speed things up.''
Kris did her best to suppress the anger rising in her as she walked slowly from Engineering. This was her station. She should not have to play silly games like this to find out what she needed to know… and to see that people who should be her subordinates knew what she needed them to know and did what she wanted them to do.
''Nelly, find out who's in charge of the contractors on this station right now and tell him or her to see me at Pier 61.''
''Kris, Steve will be arriving on the next shuttle and he requests that he be the one to talk to you.''
''You tell Steve he better get out and push that shuttle cause I want to have this talk soonest.''
''He says he will be at the shuttle landing in thirty minutes and that he will be out pushing.''
Thirty minutes later, Kris was at the shuttle dock when it came in. Steve wasn't exactly outside pushing, but he was the first off. ''We need to talk,'' Kris snapped at him.
''Yes, ma'am, but please not here,'' he said, taking her elbow and leading her along with him, ahead of a small tide of workers moving purposefully out of the shuttle and off to assignments with hardly a word spoken.
Kris kept her mad up, but she couldn't help glance over her shoulder at the crew behind her. There were no more perfect gig lines, no one was visibly ex-Navy. Still, she would take them on board any command. A look at their determination said Grampa Trouble would take them, too. Kris found herself edged out of that driven tide and seated at a table in the back of Chang's New Chicago Pizza and Chinese Waffle House with a deftness that seemed to show planning on Steve's part.
Once seated, she repeated her opener. ''We've got to talk.''
He eyed his watch. ''One day. Damn, we all lose the pool.''
Kris's curiosity won out over her anger. ''What pool?''
''We figured we'd keep you buffaloed for at least two days, some figured three or four. No one bet on you calling our bluff in less than twenty-four hours.''