Kris snorted. Chance didn't have a planetary government to start with. Things would not go as easy as Hank figured when he declared Last Chance the seat of government for the whole planet… and under his thumb. But by then, the fight would be on and Hank would have a plea for help from the Chance ''government'' and matters would go their usual, bloody way. Grampa Ray was right; Peterwald preferred not to get his planets covered with rubble. But a small planet like Chance wasn't an economic powerhouse. Peterwald wouldn't mind laying it waste to ''save'' it.
Her best move was to take all her spare weapons, drop down to Last Chance, and keep Ron from becoming suddenly dead.
And if Hank attacked her station while she was gone?
That is the problem, now, isn't it.
Kris rolled over, hunted for sleep on her other side. What were the chances that Hank could take her station if he tried? The station had the guns. A charge across all that open space on Deck 1 would be bloody and unsuccessful.
So punch a hole in the deck—let out all the air.
Hank had to know that would fail. All the critical areas had their own airtight compartments. His Marines would still be shot down as they covered the distance from their ships to just about anyplace… and Kris would let the 6-inchers hack and slash the ships at the same time. Taking down a space station looked easy on the vids. It didn't work all that well in practice. Hopefully, Captain Slovo had educated Hank on that.
Kris shook her head against her pillow. Hank, learn something? That did not sound like a good bet.
If it turns into a fight, where's the best place for me?
As Commander, Naval District 41, there was no question, her place was on her station. That answer took no brains.
Okay, Longknife, where's the best place for you?
Where did she belong? Where would Grampa Trouble or King Ray want her. No, where would their junior-officer selves be? Kris smiled. That was also a no-brainer.
She belonged down on Chance, keeping Hank from rape, pillage, and burning. Maybe there, she could keep the war from starting. And so long as she was down there, Hank would be in a very difficult position. He couldn't start bombing and wildly lasering the people from space.
Besides, I've always wanted to run a guerrilla campaign. On that happy thought, Kris rolled over and went to sleep.
Ramirez's wake-up call didn't come until seven hundred hours. ''Steve's on his way up. The shuttle's ahead of schedule. He'll be here in fifteen minutes. Thought you'd like to know.''
Kris was showered, in undress whites with ribbons, and just entering the Command Center when Steve arrived. He was clean shaven, hair cut, and in undress whites. ''Figured today might be a good one to look Navy,'' he said, saluting Kris.
She returned his honor and turned to Chief Ramirez, ''What's our situation?''
''Not bad, folks. The dregs of that liberty party were a sorry-looking bunch. We had a few walkers come out around six, but they just looked around, smelled the air, and ducked back in. They did get leafleted by the kids.''
''Pull them in,'' Kris ordered. ''If Hank breaches our hull, I want them safe. Get everyone behind airtight bulkheads. Penny, batten down our ships. Have we checked the fire curtains lately?'' The station could be divided quickly by curtains that prevented the spread of fire and the loss of air pressure.
''I tested them last week,'' Ramirez said. ''No problems.''
''One more thing, we provide waste treatment to the ships. I noticed there are holding tanks in the pier areas. Start storing sewage there. Don't let anything from Hank's ships get to our central treatment plant.''
Steve frowned. ''I respect the twisted mind that came up with that defense, but I really have to wonder what kind of people would think of attacking a station that way.''
Penny swallowed a smile. Jack shook his head ruefully. Kris said, ''I'll explain later. Are the lasers powered up?''
''Their capacitors are full,'' Ramirez said.
''They can be controlled from here,'' Steve Kovar, Lieutenant, retired, said. ''You could get two or three shots off before they need local attention.'' He grew a big, cat-dining-on-canary grin. ''And when we resited them onto the end of the piers, we made sure they could fire at the stem of ships berthed there.''
''Very good. Jack, target the stern engines of Hank's ships. Fix it so if you lean on the wrong chunk of your board, Hank's six ships lose a goodly portion of their speed and maneuverability.''
Kris thought her grin was big, but Jack's was even wider. ''Done, Your Bloodthirsty Highnessness. Grampa Trouble would be proud of your Commandership.''
''It remains to be seen if I'm all that proud of him,'' Kris grumbled at the reminder of Trouble and his… trouble. But it was time for Kris to commit to action and no time for inside-the-head arguing with her forebearers. She turned to the former Commander, Naval District 41, and saluted. ''I delegate the command and defense of this station to you. I strongly request that you don't let it fall into Peterwald hands.''
Lieutenant Kovar returned her salute. ''He gets it over my dead body, Commander.''
''Let's hope it doesn't come to that, but if it does, you have the right attitude. As of now, you have weapons release for all armament. All of them: lasers, booby traps, auto guns, personal weapons. If you want to use them, they're yours.''
The retired lieutenant took the orders with a very bland face. Twenty years of service and it never came to this. Now, in retirement, the hot potato was dropped into his hands.
Jack coughed. ''And where does that leave the rest of us?''
''Penny, you stay with the lieutenant. The first shots fired by us should be by a serving Wardhaven officer. That'll assure the fine points of law are observed.''
Penny slipped into Jack's chair, but her eyes were on Kris. ''What are my orders?''
''My preference is for Hank's forces to fire first. However, I don't expect him to do that until he has everyone exactly where he wants them.'' Kris shook her head. ''You may open fire when, in your opinion, the station is under imminent threat.''
''Should we try to make some Peterwald Marine private shoot a bit early and first?'' Kovar asked.
''Who would you sacrifice?'' Kris said. ''Our chain of command is too short to risk one of us. I will not use some old fart or kid. Penny, it's your call to make. Any problems with that?''
''I'm glad we're not sending my kids or the oldsters out to stop a bullet. No, Kris, I have no problem shooting first under these conditions.''
''Jack, you're with me,'' Kris said. ''We're heading down to Last Chance with all the personnel and crew-served weapons the Commander here will let us remove from our armory.''
''If it hasn't been issued, it's yours,'' Kovar said. He turned to an oldster on watch. ''Reina, you supervise that.''
''No problem. Give me five minutes and I'll have another work party ready to load out the armory.''
''Go, gal,'' Steve said, and the gray-haired woman hurried for the door.
''Jack, you're with her. I'll sit it out here for a bit longer, see what develops.''
''I may not be able to catch up with her,'' Jack said, but he was jogging after her before the door closed behind her.
Coming in as Jack left was a none too steady Chief Beni. Showered, shaved, and in a fresh uniform, he still looked fit for nothing more active than his own funeral. ''Sorry I'm late.''
''When'd you get in?'' Kris demanded.
''I rode the three o'clock shuttle up. It was suppose to be the two o'clock, but nothing was right last night.''
''And you missed the eleven thirty shuttle because…?'' Kris said.
The chief scratched his neck and avoided Kris's eyes. ''There were these two friendly locals buying drinks for us. ‘Saviors of the planet,' they called us. We must have drunk more last night than…'' In his present state, the chief couldn't seem to remember when that was. ''Anyway, I and the Comm Chief went looking for a cab about eleven—couldn't find one. Maybe we did go back for a few more drinks. Joe, the Chief Engineer and Doc were still putting them away when we left the second time.''