But Captain Slovo took the information in with no reaction.
The ride in gave time for Max Göckle, of the Eager, to tell Kris, or maybe Steve, all the benefits the ranchers and farmers of Chance would gain if they joined the Greenfeld Confederacy. Or maybe he was just practicing his catechism for later tonight. Neither Steve nor Kris paid him any mind.
The three skippers were dropped off at The Vault, an upscale restaurant. ''You want to join us?'' Captain Slovo asked.
''The mayor hopes you'll share his dinner plans,'' Steve said.
Kris smiled. ''A gal can hardly pass up an offer from an attractive young man.'' That seemed to settle matters.
As they pulled away from the curve, Kris asked Steve, ''Should I have gone along with the Greenfeld skippers to listen in on what they might be hatching?''
''They have more chance of hatching a rock than they have of getting anything out of the ten they're dining with,'' Steve said, shaking his head. ''If Dad had to pick ten business guys more committed to Chance for Chance, they'd top his list. No, those fellows won't be finding much to report back on tonight.''
Dinner was at Ron's favorite steak house. Kris enjoyed relaxing in the company of two fine men who knew how to entertain a woman. And talked shop only as much as she wanted to. Which was to say, way too much of the dinner.
''Folks are pretty disgusted with what came down last night,'' Ron said as soon as they'd ordered.
''Never had a fleet in?'' Kris asked.
''Actually, we haven't. I asked one of the networks to check their archives. No Navy here for over sixty years.''
''So this catch-up all at once is something of a shock to the system,'' Jack said dryly.
''Is there anything we can do about it?'' Ron asked Kris.
Kris leaned back in her chair and watched a ceiling fan make its lazy circles. ''Let's see. You could ask him to leave.''
''He'd laugh in our faces.''
''Insist he make his sailors behave. Tell him we want some Shore Patrol working with your police.''
''I might try that soon.''
''How about having an accident at the brewery?'' Jack said.
''No brew. No chance. Our beer comes from small breweries. They'd all have to have a problem. All at once. Now that would be grounds for invading us. Making space safe for the brew,'' Ron said, raising his glass.
''Here, here,'' Jack agreed, and clinked glasses.
Kris raised her soda water. ''So what does that leave us?''
''Waiting for him to decide to leave on his own,'' Ron said.
''Waiting for him to drop the other shoe,'' Kris said. ''This feels like a card game Tommy taught me at OCS. Santa Maria Hold'em. You deal every player three cards faceup. Then two cards facedown. Players can swap out three cards from either group, but no one knows which facedown cards are turned in. Then you place your bets.'' Kris shook her head. ''We know some things about Hank's hand. More than we did yesterday. I'll get to that in a minute. But there're some things we don't know. And some things he doesn't know. Now we're waiting to see if Hank folds, or stays in the game.''
The men nodded. ''What do we know more about?'' Ron asked.
Kris told them what Captain Slovo had told her. ''So Hank's flag captain has told you twice they weren't expecting to see the station defended?'' Ron said when Kris was done.
''Seems to want to make sure I got the message. Now that might explain yesterday,'' Kris said. ''They went for the quick snatch-and-grab as planned, fell flat, and now are rethinking things. What I don't like is Hank's up there without his adult supervision. Is he just sulking or is he hatching something?''
''Adult supervision?'' Ron said, and Kris shared her comment to Slovo and his whispered response.
''Whose side is this captain on?'' Ron asked.
Kris shrugged. ''Would you want the job of taking Hank out for a cruise and making sure that he comes home in one piece?''
''Been there, done that,'' Jack said. ''Got the bruises to show for my failed effort. It's bad enough having to do it for the Prime Minister's bratty daughter. No way would I take it from the perspective of a captain to commodore.''
Ron frowned at Kris, then Jack. ''You're a first lieutenant of Marines. She's a lieutenant in the Navy. Isn't that the same one-grade difference this Greenfeld captain has?‘''
''Big difference,'' Kris assured Ron. ''They make you a commodore and you're breveted god. While a mere lieutenant occasionally has to admit to error.''
''Not nearly often enough,'' Jack pointed out.
''But I have.''
''What, once in the time I've known you.''
''That's still more than I suspect Hank ever will.''
''She's got me there,'' Jack admitted to Ron.
''I would never make it in your Navy,'' Ron said, shaking his head. ''I make four, five mistakes a day. And that's just in spelling on my reports. Wouldn't survive without Chief Ramirez to save my sorry soul. Speaking of, when do I get her back?''
''Fifteen seconds after Hank and his fleet jump out, and not a moment sooner.''
''I will try to survive,'' Ron said sorrowfully.
Steaks arrived, and they proceeded to do honor to them. Kris was the one who broke the pleasant munching to ask Ron, ''Do you have reinforcements tonight?''
''Some, not as many as we wanted. I've asked other mayors to send me some of their best to stand up with mine, leaving out the untrained volunteers. Most are sending some, but none before tomorrow. Faced with that, I put out a call for former athletes who wanted to spend a night with the kids, any Sunday-school teacher, males only, anyone who wanted to try their hand at riot control. Word has gotten around about last night. If half of the folks who phoned in come, we should have a good turnout.''
''A turnout,'' Jack said.
''We'll have bodies. Skill level is something else. We did have a dozen cabers donated and a couple of friends of Mac-Nab will be helping him tonight. Are you going to toss another one?''
''Not if I don't want my maid to kill me.'' Kris held up both hands. ''If she gives me another manicure like the one I suffered through today, I may need prosthetics.''
''I'll kiss it and make it well,'' Ron offered. Kris let him. Jack looked on dolefully.
''If I did that it would be fraternizing,'' he grumbled. A while later he added. ''If you keep that up, it will qualify as practicing medicine without a license on 212 planets.''
''I'll give you three hours to stop,'' Kris moaned softly. She'd never realized just how sensitive her hands were to a man's lips. She swallowed hard. More than her hands were responding to this man. A lot more.
''Kris, there's a call for the mayor, but his phone seems to be off,'' Nelly said.
Ron leaned back into his chair. ''I turned it off for a reason,'' he muttered, pulling a tiny phone out of his pocket and inserting it into his ear. He listened for only a moment.
''Mother, you know those grandkids you keep talking about. Well, I think you just blew a major opportunity.''
''Sorry, son, but the liberty launches are due in soon and we don't have half the busses we're supposed to. I talked to Mike and he said we've got all the ones he's managed to clean up after last night. Can you get on it?''
Ron waved for the check, and signed it, then stood to go. ''You'll excuse me. Jack, don't dance the feet off her.''
Kris rose from her only half-eaten meal. ''Where we headed?''
And so Kris ended up cleaning busses and getting them to the airport on time. In high heels and without messing her cocktail dress. Not a bad start to an evening. The upside was that Kris found an industrial-strength tar remover to send to the Highland Games that night, just in case she decided to toss a caber.
The downside was that she was still hanging around the busses when it became clear the liberty launches were coming in faster than last night and that they'd never get as many busses as they had the night before.