They took the newly available places and signaled for drinks. Kris watched as three barmaids took trays with already filled glasses to them and set them down before them. She kept watching as the men and women cautiously tried their drinks.
One fellow spat his out and threw the full glass at the serving maid. She was a Marine and dodged expertly.
“What’s this shit?” he shouted, as the house got very quiet.
Kris stood up . . . the house silence got total.
“That’s what we drink out here,” she said softly. Deadly soft to those who knew her.
“I got better back on the Mary Allen,” he shouted back.
“Not by this time tomorrow,” Kris said. “All spirits and food stuff brought into the system will be confiscated and added to the general issue. No one will starve, but we’ve got a critical food situation here. The best go to those who work the best. Those that don’t work don’t eat. If you want a good beer or whiskey, you’ll need to show that your ship is one of the best. If not, you’ll get by on what we’ve got plenty of, and what you’re drinking tonight is what the Alwans like. We’ve got plenty of it.”
“No wonder,” the guy said, and spat again.
“I didn’t plan to start this meeting this way,” Kris said, “but this is as good a place as any. If you don’t know, I am, as of a few minutes ago, Vice Admiral, Her Royal Highness, Kris Longknife, Viceroy to the Colonials on Alwa, Ambassador to the Alwa natives, CEO of Nuu Enterprises in System, and Commander, Alwa Defense Sector. No matter what your job is, you pretty much work for me.”
She paused to let that sink in.
“For those of you in uniform, this will be no surprise. Our orders are to hold here until relieved. So far, we’ve gotten reinforcements but no reliefs. For civilians, the same rules apply. We have no warships to escort you back to human space. We cannot allow you to sail unescorted. In addition to that, we need you here, working to improve the defenses of this system. As soon as you’re unloaded, we’ll respin your ships from multireactor starships into single-reactor system freighters.”
“And what if we don’t want to be your willing slaves?” came from somewhere in the back of the room from the newly created tables.
“As I said, we’ve got a food problem here. No work, no food. If you don’t want to work or don’t work out up here in space, you can go dirtside and see if you like it better working for a colonial farmer or fisherman. The work’s hard and hot. Many of us have taken a turn at it on our leaves. It’s hard and hot work, but it’s putting in a crop that should see us eating better and brewing our own beer in a month or two.”
“And if we decide to skip your job offer and just leave?” It was also unclear who spoke.
“Do not misunderstand me. I said no ship leaves here. We can’t afford to have any ship taken by the aliens. If they find out where human space is, it’s all over for humanity. Maybe not in a few years, but for now, those are the orders I’ve been given.”
“Is that why the freighters that stopped off at the mines have an escort?” came from Commodore L’Estock.
“Yes. If one of those merchant ships had tried to run back the way it came, I’d have ordered the escort to shoot out its engines. Maybe it’s time we complete the briefing. Nelly, put the feed from my battle board of three weeks ago up on the main screen.”
The screen lit up as the aliens tried and failed, then succeeded at forcing the jump. Everyone watched as the alien horde drove the Navy ships back, dying for every bit of space they gained but taking Navy ships with them. The climactic battle near the gas giant came quickly, then the bloody rout—ending with the aliens blowing their moon-size base ship to atoms.
“That’s our enemy. This is why we fight.”
The forward screen filled with the raped planet that Kris had found on the Voyage of Discovery. It showed the wreckage of a planet plundered of its resources, right down to its air and water.
“If we fail, this is what happens to the planet beneath us. If we make the mistake of letting these aliens get any leads to human space, this is what happens to your home planets—to your brothers, sisters, moms, and dads. Does anyone have any questions?”
It took a moment before, “Not since you put it that way,” came from some wag in the back, but it seemed to be a good enough answer for all.
“Now, the good news is that we won that fight. The bad news is that three other alien clans were watching us do it. No doubt, given time, they’ll be back to take a try at us. I was about to take a scout squadron out when you arrived. We think we’ve found the alien home world, and we want to look over the planet they appear to have abandoned a hundred thousand years ago. Maybe it will tell us something. Maybe it won’t.”
Kris turned to Commodore Kitano. “While I’m gone, Commodore Kitano will have the job of teaching you how we fight on Alwa Station. It’s hard driving and hard evasion. You’ll likely need to modify your ships to pull it off. She and the veterans of the recent fight will be showing you the ropes over the next several weeks. Since she’s been acting as my deputy, it’s appropriate that she have the rank to go with it. Commodore Kitano.”
The woman stood, then marched front and center to Kris. “Commodore Kitano, it is my honor to promote you to rear admiral. These shoulder boards have served me well in the last battle. May they serve you just as well.”
Kris removed the young woman’s commodore boards and replaced them with those of a rear admiral. “Congratulations,” Kris said, offering her hand to shake.
Kitano shook it right back. “Thank you, Admiral.”
When Kitano had returned to her seat, Kris turned again to the officers before her. “There will be other fleeting ups announced tomorrow that will leave squadron positions open. We will fill in behind. Battle-experienced hands will have the leg up. No doubt, there will be more opportunities for you newcomers to demonstrate your fighting caliber. That’s just the way it is on Alwa Station.
“Now, are there any more questions?”
As Kris expected, there were none. “Then enjoy yourselves. Take a break, for, oh, the next hour. Work on upgrading the ships to Alwa Station standards will begin at 0800 tomorrow morning. Your first training sortie will be in three days.”
“You’re going easy on them,” came from somewhere among the U.S. contingent.
Kris ignored the comment and walked over to where Commodore Miyoshi was talking with Commodore Zingi from Yamato. They bowed to her, and she returned it.
“Is the situation as, ah, challenging as you say?” the newcomer asked.
“Which do you mean?” Kris asked, letting a smile play on her face. “The alien fleet, the prospects of the planet below being plundered down to bedrock, or our own food situation?”
“Ah, so it is all of it, ne?”
“All of it, but do not doubt us, we have made great strides. Commodore Miyoshi can tell you all about it. By the way, Commodore, you will need to see where you can scrounge up a pair of rear-admiral shoulder boards. Your promotion will be announced tomorrow.”
“Hai! Good for you,” Commodore Zingi said.
“Does that mean I will be the one stuck showing these old sticks in the mud from Yamato how to do a real fighting man’s job?”
“Old man, you . . .” And the conversation took a turn into a language Kris only dimly remembered from her time on Musashi and had never much understood then. She bowed her way out of what she took to be some good-natured ribbing and continued her way around the room, stopping wherever she spotted a soon-to-be rear admiral and letting him or her know the good news while answering any questions the new arrivals had. Most of them were rather silent although several thanked Kris for not ending the war before they got in.