While nanos did their tiny thing, locals that were somewhat larger, but still tiny in most perspectives, did their thing. Kris and Steve watched as each of the docking details came face-to-face with a mob of short people, doing cute to perfection while dancing their own particular version of ancient Earth folk dances. To Kris, it looked like the shortest, say four- to six-year-olds, were doing about the same thing. But they were backed up by ten- to twelve-year-olds doing a better job of telling the polka from the Highland fling.
And the adult supervisors made it clear to the grizzled chiefs of the docking details that those cute kids holding baskets almost as big as they were intended to give them up only to the captain of the ship.
Kris's Command Center struggled only moderately successfully to keep from rolling on the floor, laughing, as chiefs made hurried calls to their superiors and officers arrived, many still putting on formal dress, to receive this bit of local largess.
''Don't those dolts have any experience with a formal port visit?'' Beni asked no one in particular. ''Commander Santiago briefed us on what to expect on Hikila. We were all looking forward to topless babes in grass skirts. In zero g.''
''What happened?'' Kris asked, remembering nothing like that.
''You went dirtside and we got no show at all. No shore leave, either.''
''No shore leave?''
''Yeah,'' Beni sighed. ''She kept us locked and cocked for a rescue mission. I heard her tell you that you were on your own, but she was lying through her Navy-issued teeth. If you had so much as whispered for help, she would have had the Marines and half the crew of the Halsey down there in no time at all.''
Which was interesting information for Kris, but only of historical value.
She kept her eyes on several rows of monitors, following the proceedings at all six ship's landing areas. On the Incredible's monitor, four men in civilian clothes slipped across the brow and dodged past the greeting party.
''Mark those four,'' Kris ordered. ''Keep your eyes peeled for similar teams,'' she ordered Jack, Beni and Penny at her side. Steve was talking into a headset. At the top of the escalators from Pier 1, two youths in the uniform of Last Chance Safety and Security joined the four. The uniform wasn't much, just jeans and flannel shirts, but the smiles from the young man and woman were uniformly wide.
Kris took a step back to evaluate the whole situation. ''They're from Hank's flagship. Doesn't look like there are any other groups trying to make a breakout.''
Heads nodded agreement, but eyes stayed on the screens. Now two more came active as the four made their way along Deck 1, not in any straight path, but meandering between different landing areas, eyeing the globes that held the auto guns. Frowning now and then and whispering to themselves or their commlink.
''Commlink,'' Beni said. ''I'm tracking communications but I can't crack the code. Kris, can Nelly take a look at it?''
''Nelly, have at it.''
''This should be fun,'' her computer said.
''Here comes a second team of walkers,'' Penny said.
''Different ship?'' Kris asked.
''No, flag. I think Hank's holding it close to his chest.''
''Let's see where these go,'' Steve said, and whispered into his link. Two kids waited for them as they topped the escalator.
''This is rather easy,'' Jack said.
''Well this code is not,'' Nelly reported. ''It is totally revised from what we saw on Turantic and the six battleships at Wardhaven. I'm going to need a lot more transmissions before I can crack it.''
''Monitor it, Nelly, and have fun.''
Jack was still giving his monitors an unhappy frown. ''If I was in charge here, I'd try something outside the station.''
''We're looking for that,'' Steve said. ''All the 6-inch batteries at the tip of the docks have cameras.'' So saying, he switched several monitors over to show the outside of the ships. ''No activity.''
''One of their nanos just tried to burn one of ours,'' Penny said. All sixty kilos of Kris's Smart Metal were nano-scouts.
''Wonder how many scouts Hank has,'' Kris said. ''Penny, scout weapons release. Let's see who has the last one flying.''
The battle was short and one-sided. Hank had not brought nearly enough scouts, or they weren't as heavily armed as Kris's. Since nanos offered no quarters to each other, there were no prisoners taken, none to interrogate or examine. Well, not many.
''We've identified the wreckage of several nanos, not fully burned,'' Jack reported shortly after Penny reported the fire-fight over. ''I'm marking them for retrieval. If they're Smart Metal, we can examine what makes them tick, not tick.''
''Ouch,'' Kris said, the realization dawning on her that the ability to program your own metal might offer your enemy the option to reprogram it at the worst of all possible times. ''Jack, I do not like your line of thinking.''
''I like you, too, Princess,'' he said without looking up.
''That second foursome is making straight for the amidships service area,'' Steve reported. ''And I think they know where our elevator is.'' Four men in bulky coats piled into the elevator that a month ago first brought Kris to this Command Center.
Steve eyed his board. ''They punched for two. Anyone want to bet they want 1A?''
''No bet,'' Kris said, her eyes roving all the boards.
As programmed, the elevator took them straight to three and opened. ''Can I help you?'' came a cheerful voice from the desk just outside the welded-closed door of the Command Center.
The four seemed surprised by where they were, but they were good, recovered fast, and stepped forward into the closed-off foyer. Two of them leaned over the desk of a young woman intentionally chosen for her busty blond appearance… that covered an honors degree in psychology and counseling. Two men tried in several different ways to ask directions to different places on the station, cutting her off when she made to answer, and in general did their best to dominate her attention and confuse the situation. The other two tested the doors, found them locked, and began to pick them with both electronic and physical tools. The one working hard on the solidly welded Command Center door did not bother Kris.
The other door could be a problem.
''Jack, you're with me,'' Kris said. Jack, in dress blues, pistol, and sword, was right behind Kris as she quick-timed for the left exit from the center. Outside, she turned two corners and brought herself to a halt before a door, caught her breath and waited only to the count of two before the door opened.
The crewcut and hard muscles of the young man in front of Kris shouted Special Forces. He looked up from where he'd been jiggling the door handle, saw Kris in undress whites scowling down at him, took in Jack with his hand resting on his pistol… and had the good sense to close the door.
Kris opened the door, stepped through it, and gave Jack the second he needed to follow her. He shouted ''Atten'hut on Deck'' and the rest of the proceedings came to a roaring halt as all four of the Greenfeld men braced at attention.
Why was that not a surprise.
''Gentlemen,'' Kris said crisply. ''As I am sure you have heard from the receptionist, you are in a restricted area. You will remove yourselves immediately. You have received the only warning you will get. Your pictures and basic biometrics have been recorded. If you violate these precincts again, you will be restricted to your ships for the remainder of this port of call. Do you understand me?''
''Yes, sir,'' rocketed back at Kris.
''The elevator would be a good exit, don't you think?''
The four piled in the elevator and the door quickly closed.
Jack stood there shaking his head. ''Too easy.''
''I agree,'' Kris said. ''They were a throwaway gambit.''
''So where's the main thrust?''
''Yet to come,'' Kris said, and turned to the receptionist. ''You okay?''