“Yes,” Kris said, wondering how long this story would take.
“I had a visual on the Iteeche, and a gravity bearing from our new atom laser. But they didn’t agree. You being kind of busy, I chose the gravity bearing since it put the Death Ball off our bow, but the visual said it was dead ahead.”
“That might explain why the cruisers were shooting our way,” Kris said.
“And missing the Iteeche,” Jack added.
“That’s what I thought,” the chief said. “Anyway, when we got our laser- and radar-range findings, they supported the visual. I didn’t change the board.”
“During the war, our ships had the devil’s own time,” Kris said, “hitting the Iteeche ships. They never seemed to be where our sensors said they were.”
“I hadn’t heard about that,” Colonel Cortez said.
“The Navy wasn’t all that interested in sharing its problems with its sister service,” Kris said.
“But you can’t hit something you can’t range properly,” Jack pointed out.
“You can if you fire full broadsides carefully spaced,” Kris said. “That’s what they did in the later fleet actions, firing carefully organized salvoes to cover everything. And we finally started hitting things in all the wrong places.”
“And this never got out?” Abby said.
“You want to tell all the folks back home,” Kris said, “that your Navy is firing blind ’cause the Iteeche can do magic tricks and make their ships disappear?”
“I see the problem,” the colonel said.
“It wasn’t exactly secret after the war,” Kris said, “but it didn’t make it into any of the popular history or vids, where most people got their education. But our new gravity sensors, the ones we’re using to find the fuzzy jump points, can find them,” she said, with a grin.
“Meaning that the Iteeche are maybe seven feet tall, not ten,” Abby said.
“Ma’am,” Colonel Cortez said, “the Iteeche are seven feet tall. My daddy measured quite a few of their bodies after he’d killed them.”
“But we’ve got Smart Metal™ and a new gravity sensor in our atom laser. We can go places they can’t even see, and we’ve got a whole new metal to protect our hides,” Kris said. “Abby, dump all this to a message pod. As soon as the Greenfeld cruisers get out of my sky, send it back to the jump. Use your best codes, ’cause the cruisers will likely intercept the message when it’s broadcast across the next system.”
“Right, Your Highness. I imagine Admiral Crossenshield will be a mite bit delighted to hear about this. Might even up my pay if I kind of forget to include this in my general report on what you’re up to,” Abby said, heading out and wrangling an arm around Cara. “Come on, Baby Duck, I will not have you falling asleep no matter who’s your teacher tomorrow.”
“But this is exciting, and you never let me have any fun.”
The door closed firmly behind the two, and Kris found herself smiling along with the rest of the team at the familiar dialogue from her youth.
Kris turned from the screen and eyed her team. “It’s nice to know that we may have a few surprises up our sleeves,” Kris said.
“Considering that we only have two sleeves, and they have four,” Professor mFumbo said, “don’t bet too much on that.”
“Good point, Professor,” Kris replied. “Now, does anyone have any idea about who we are dealing with? Are they representatives of the Empire, or Wandering Men who have broken all allegiances? And is there any way for us to tell between the two?”
Eighty years ago, that had started the trouble between the two species. The Iteeche’s first contact had been with human pirates who accepted no law. Our first contact had been with Iteeche Wandering Men, who accepted no rule and were under a death sentence upon capture by any Imperial forces. There was a lot of shooting first before anyone thought of asking questions.
By the time the Society of Humanity realized the mess it was in, the bad blood between the two species didn’t invite conversation. No one who was part of that war wanted to think about all the years of bloody massacre and prisonerless battles that it had taken before cooler heads were finally allowed to attempt negotiations.
In the end, both sides agreed to ignore the other. At the time, the No Go Zone seemed large enough to assure the necessary separation.
It had worked for eighty years.
Why had the Iteeche come out now? Did they feel it was time to examine the standoff between them and the humans? If so, it hadn’t started out all that well.
“It’s not as if they violated the No Go Zone,” Colonel Cortez said. “We are light-years from it. They might just be doing the same thing we’re doing. Looking around for worlds they could settle.”
“Kind of close to us,” Jack pointed out.
“Only because we’re getting kind of close to them,” mFumbo pointed out.
“Chief, put up a star map,” Kris ordered. “Iteeche red, human blue, No Go Zone purple.”
It appeared in place of the solar system map that showed the Greenfeld cruisers no more than five minutes away from their jump point. Human space spreading out in all directions, but here it squeezed to the right and left of Imperial Space, flanking the No Go Zone. Human planets had grown from 150 to over 600 in the last eighty years. Still, the Empire had claimed over 2,000 planets eighty years ago. Even if the Empire had grown at its usual slow, dignified pace, humanity was still way outnumbered.
“So, folks, what do you think?” Kris asked. “An Imperial ship, exploring like us? An illegal, looking for a place to hide from justice? Or something else?”
Around the table, Kris was greeted with shrugs. Jack pulled a coin out of his pocket and offered to flip it.
“You’re a lot of help.”
“Who’s a lot of help?” Captain Drago asked as he entered.
“My brain trust,” Kris said, standing.
“Well, the system is ours. I’m willing to bet this fellow gets more talkative real soon.”
“Right, but is he one of their pirate types or an explorer ship like us?” Kris asked. “Jack was about to flip a coin.”
He did. “It’s heads. What’s that mean?”
“That your coin is no better at guessing our future than the rest of us,” Kris said.
“Well, if you ask me,” Captain Drago said, “whoever is over there is a smart ship handler. There haven’t been a lot of course changes. He’s got a good set of sensors, knows what we’re doing, and does what he wants to do. No bobbling the course. We’ve also got some visuals on him. Good paint job. Not a lot of dings and dents in his hull. Somebody knows how to drive a ship. Or at least cares enough about his boat to keep someone working to make it Ship-shape and Bristol fashion.”
“Not something pirates are known for,” Kris said.
“If you want my money, I’d bet on an Imperial,” Captain Drago said.
“And I’d never bet against you,” Kris said.
“Captain, we’ve got a message coming in from the Iteeche,” Sulwan announced over the captain’s commlink.
“Where do you want to take it, Lieutenant?”
Kris considered her options: here, or the bridge. Of course, she could offer him a glass of wine and a chance to share a bubble bath with her naked body.
Come to think about it, that had never been tried during the long and bloody effort to stop the fighting . . . and the Iteeche were supposed to be partial to water.
“The bridge,” Kris snapped. “It was where I turned Nelly off, and if I’m going to risk turning her back on, there’s no better place than there.”