Kris leaned back in her seat and took a deep breath. Maybe anger wasn't the best way to handle this situation. If it was, she could always pull her mad back out and slap Steve around with it a couple of times. But if it wasn't, well, there was no way to take it back. ''What is going on here?'' Kris demanded.
''When you took command of that fast patrol boat of yours, PF-109 was it, how much respect did your crew give you?''
Kris frowned in thought. ''I don't know. Some. Not much. They were green as petunias. We skippers were, well, everyone knew we were problem kids. Juvenile delinquents, hooligans were some of the nicer things we were called.''
''I read about you and your helmswoman landing a racing skiff on the green of some golf course.'' Steve laughed. ''What were you trying to do?''
''Fintch scored off the charts when they used games to test her, but she'd never actually maneuvered a ship, never even been off planet in her life. I figured she deserved a go at something smaller than a PF before she started honking it around the sky.'' Kris shrugged. ''So she missed on her first try. She was never that far off again.''
''She learned she could respect herself,'' Steve said softly. ''And the whole crew found that they could count on you to help them do their best. And respected you for it.'' Kris nodded.
''How long did you have to get things shipshape before things blew up in your face?''
Kris knew almost to the second how long they'd had from the moment she first came aboard the PF-109 until she'd been relieved of her command and hauled off in cuffs. But that wasn't the question Steve was asking. ''A whole lot more time than you've got right now,'' she answered.
''All my people know is that you're one of those damn Longknifes.''
''That's all one word,'' Kris interrupted.
''However you say it, some may hold it against you. Some may look at your grampas and think, wow. Me, I look at the package, and I worry for my friends and neighbors. Just who are you? What have you got to prove? Are you going to turn a perfectly good day into a bloody massacre because you have something to show people who are thirty light-years away? I need answers to those questions before I dare take the muzzle off you.''
The former Naval person leaned back in his chair as Tony Chang settled drinks in front of them and left. ''Who are you, Longknife?'' Steve asked.
Kris took a long pull on her soda as he did the same. A soda, today, not a beer, for him, too. The place where everyone knew everything wanted this to be a very sober discussion.
''My father, Prime Minister that he is, figured me for the permanent campaign manager for my older brother, maybe his, too.''
Steve frowned at that. ''Parents often have the worst expectations for their kids.''
''Mother just wanted me to marry wealthy. Give her a couple of grandkids to mess up as bad as she messed up us kids.'' This drew a deep scowl from the retired lieutenant.
''So you ran off and joined the Navy,'' he said.
''Fool me, I thought it was one place where I would be just me. Where I could be measured on my own merit.'' Kris turned, stared at the bulkhead. ''But wherever I go, they've heard of those-damn-Longknifes, and I'm just one of them.''
Steve shrugged. ''Sorry, kid, but you are.''
''So I've discovered. But…'' she nailed him with her eyes. He did not look away. ''Let's get a couple of things straight. One, I want just as much for Chance to be left on its own as anyone born here. Fourth generation, or whatever. Do you hear me?''
''I think so.''
''Second, I do not want a bloodbath before, during, or after this little squadron visit. I don't even want Hank to cut his little pinky. I want Hank to come, to see, and toddle right back out Jump Point Alpha, or Beta, or whatever. I don't like the idea of there being a Longknife and a Peterwald in this system any more than you do. The last thing I want is for us to come to blows. You hear me?''
''I hear you, but, I'm kind of having a hard time figuring out what I'm hearing. I mean, the Battle of Wardhaven and all. I figured you'd be gunning for him.''
Kris eyed the ceiling and said a prayer to any God willing to listen to the likes of her. She let out a long sigh and chose her words carefully. ''Steve, you study much history?''
''I like to think I studied a lot of it.''
''What were the longest, nastiest wars?''
He thought for a minute. ''Aside from the irregular ones, those where you had a hard time finding one of the sides, I guess I'd say the ones where the two sides were evenly matched. Where neither side would win a solid victory over the other.''
''And so the war dragged on year after year, campaign after campaign, with both doing a lot of hurt to the other, the people paying a higher and higher price for the war, but neither able to swing a knockout blow at the other?''
''Yep.''
''What would you say about the strength of the two alliances, Peterwald verses Longknife.'' Yeah, let's get personal.
''Your Grampa Ray is ahead.''
''Enough for a knockout blow?'' Steve shook his head.
''My feelings exactly. Now do you see why I want to make sure this station doesn't just plop itself into Hank's lap? And why the games dirtside go smooth as they can?''
''If I didn't know you better, I'd call you a pacifist.''
''Hell no,'' Kris spat. ''Given enough time, I figure we're going to have Peterwald so beat that he'll give up without a fight, like, what were they? The Soviet Union back in the twentieth? But in the meantime, we have to keep our powder dry and never turn our back on them for a second.''
''So now all I have to do is persuade folks that you will not ride roughshod over them,'' Steve said, pushing his chair back.
Kris stood. ''When we were trying to get that collection of extraneous junk ready for the Battle of Wardhaven, I did walk-arounds to see how things were going for myself…''
''I was planning on doing just that. Why don't we do them together for a while?''
''Fine, the other was stand-up meetings twice a day. That way folks learned what others were doing.''
''Stand-ups,'' Steve echoed.
''Stand-ups. So no one gets comfortable.''
''I like it.''
And so security was enhanced, auto guns were checked, cameras were on-line and a small horde of nano-scouts released into the station next morning. The capacitors were full and, just fifteen minutes before Hank's flag was due to hook up, the reactor came up to cheers stationwide. Oh, and Kris even got six hours' sleep.
''I guess we're about as ready for them as we'll ever be,'' Kris said, turning to Steve. ''So, do we meet them at the pier or stay safely behind security in the Command Center?''
''Oh, didn't Ron tell you?'' Steve grinned.
''All my stand-ups, all my walk-arounds, and why do I think I'm about to be slapped with a surprise?''
''Well, the Last Chance Ballet and Modern Dance Class of Mrs. Toronado will be meeting Hank's flag and giving him flowers and a basket of baked goods from the 4-H prize winners at last year's Last Chance County Fair.''
''And the other ships?''
''We have kids from the Highland Dance school, and German Culture Classes, the Kabuki Theater, the Desert Dances and… anyway, there will be pretty little girls and boys stammering hello to all the ships and offering them baskets of goodies that won't have been totally eaten on the ride up.'' Steve was grinning from ear to ear.
''Drown them in kindness.''
''That's the whole idea. Show them that there's a lot to like about Chance, and not a whole lot we want to change.''
''Hank ain't gunna like that.''
''Why don't that bother me,'' Steve said through a huge grin.
Chapter 10
''We have unknown nano-scouts loose on our station,'' Beni reported fifteen seconds after Hank's flag opened its hatch.
''No surprise there,'' Kris sighed, and prepared to see that her station stayed her station.
''Our nanos are trailing them and will report on what they are interested in,'' Beni added.