“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.”
Kris didn’t want the chief in her Command Center today. “Trot down to the Resolute, put your head together with their Comm Chief, hike up their antenna and see if you pick up anything interesting about Hank’s ships before the rest of us do.”
“Yeah, I can do that. And Beck has great coffee. I could really use some coffee.”
Fifteen minutes later, Hank started causing trouble.
First two, then another two walkers left Hank’s flagship. Penny drew a bead on the first pair. Then the second.
“Mind if I try something?” Chief Ramirez asked.
“I was wondering why you hadn’t left,” Steve Kovar said.
“I’ve been watching these turkeys amble around my station, raising my blood pressure, and maybe us having to kill them. I was wondering if there wasn’t something I could do.”
“What do you have in mind?” Kris asked.
The relief for the folks that had been watching the monitors for half the night trooped in. As the first set of kids and oldsters got up, stretched, the chief said, “You folks good for a bit of fun?”
“Please, let me visit the head first,” an old fellow said. “Then I’m yours.”
“I’ll need a few things out of the armory,” Ramirez said.
“I promised most of that stuff to the princess,” Steve said.
“She won’t need dirtside what I’m gonna borrow.”
“Should I ask again what’s going on?” Kris asked.
“Just watch,” the chief said as she led old farts and pink spiky hair toward the armory. Kris waited for a long ten minutes as the two pairs of walkers became four. At first, they stuck to the forward end of the station, roaming from one pier to the other, but they were edging toward amidships when the elevator opened and six spacesuited figures got out.
“That’s what I thought,” the old lieutenant chortled. “We talked about some batty ideas in our time. I wondered how this would play out. Penny, you have control of those fire curtains?”
“Yes, sir.”
“As soon as those six clear the amidships shops, start closing those forward of midship.”
Kris watched as the six came forward, the chief in the lead, the other five in a loose line behind her. In armored space suits there was no way to tell the backup here was old coots and kids. Once the last of them were three meters out from the line of shops, the many segments of gray, airtight fire curtain began to slide closed all around the station. The six didn’t look back.
The reaction of the walkers, all dressed for a nice day on the station, was decidedly different. A couple of them might have bolted for the nearest pier if the senior of the pair hadn’t demanded they stay right where they were.
The chief and her five walked slowly toward the closest pair. The chief ’s suit had an external speaker; her words came through loud and clear. “Our commander gave your boss man his marching orders. We don’t want you ambling around our station. I suggest you head back before we evacuate the air you’re breathing.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Penny,” Kovar said, “could you start sucking some of the air out of that section of the station.”
“Yes,” Penny said, hitting a button.
“There’re a lot of things you think we can’t do. Push us and you may discover to your sorrow just what we will do.”
The junior of the two suddenly looked around, then nudged his senior’s elbow. That one sniffed the air, glancing around, then scowled. “We aren’t finished here.”
“I think we are,” the chief said as all the walkers hurried away. As they passed to Bay 2 where half the ships were docked, Lieutenant Kovar laid a hand on Penny’s shoulder.
“Now close the fire curtains between Bay 3 and Bay 2.”
Then the old lieutenant turned to face Kris. “I think we’ve now arranged that they don’t get to rush this station before having to shoot at our fire bay doors. That may not be much of a casus belli, but it’s a clear declaration of intent. And it should take a load off this lieutenant’s mind.”
“Do we pull the air out of Bay 3 once the chief is out?”
As Steve answered, “Yes,”
Nelly said, “Kris you have a call coming in from Commodore Peterwald.”
“Put it on a screen,” Kris said, and as the nearest one flipped from a security collage to a very red-in-the-face man in a blue uniform she smoothed her face to Navy bland.
“I’m sorry, Hank. The message must have gotten garbled. I’m having trouble maintaining air pressure. We think we have a slow leak somewhere in Bay 3. We’re temporarily isolating it while we search.” Around Kris, faces reflected high admiration for anyone who could come up with a whopper that big, that fast. On screen, Hank trembled in speechless rage.
Captain Slovo came on screen. “I told the commodore that you might be having that kind of trouble. Your station is quite old and not at all well kept up.”
“Sadly, all too true,” Kris agreed.
Hank’s glare at Kris broke as he glared at his flag captain. “We’ll talk more about this when I’m done,” Hank snapped. Kris was none too sure if the parting shot was aimed at her or at poor Slovo. Whatever they were paying him, it wasn’t enough.
The screen went blank. Kris shook her head. “Slovo told him what he was walking into and he didn’t listen.”
“He’s a commodore,” Steve said. “Why listen to a captain?”
“Maybe because Slovo is right more often than his sycophant junior captains,” Penny offered.
“That would require Hank to learn something. I don’t think he can.” Kris went down her threat board and came up with more to worry about. “What if he sends the Marines in light assault craft through another dock or the shuttle bay?”
“Penny will have a misfire with those damn lasers,” Kovar said, saluting Kris smartly. “A quick shot aimed at their motors should mess up their day. Then the chief will go out with folks who regularly work in space suits, collect their guns, and push the Marines back where they belong. Ma’am, when you’ve stewed as long as I have about defending this bit of space, you come up with a whole lot of ideas.” He looked around the room, a proud father’s contented smile on his face. “You go dirtside and ruin Hank’s day down there. I’ve got him covered up here.”
Kris ambled aft to the armory. All she saw were gray walls and a few boxes of rocket grenades. As she came in, a kid hauled those out. Their bag of tricks was empty. If they failed, it would not be because they didn’t use everything they had. She joined Jack at the shuttle bay, quickly checked the tie-downs on the load of her shuttle, and preflighted it. An hour later, they were on the ground. The shuttle was towed straight to a hanger. There were trucks waiting to take the weapons into town.
Kris rode in the first truck, Jack at her elbow. The drive was long, introduced her to a wide limited-access highway that circled Last Chance, and gave her a better view of how the half million people here lived. Businesses, industrial parks, suburbs were all going concerns, easily the match for the medium cities of Wardhaven. It would be a shame to see all this turned into a free-fire zone for Hank’s troops.
The truck took an exit at Southside Industrial Park. It drove by a shopping center, homes, businesses, and then turned onto a winding road that took them through a grassy berm and into an area of light industry, warehouses, and finally, at its south end, a series of low buildings marked Municipal Complex.
“That’s where our Safety and Peace Officers get trained,” the driver said, pointing at several brick buildings of one and two stories. “That over there is where we train Fire Department Volunteers and Regulars.” This time, Kris was directed at a similar cluster of brick buildings. Across an asphalt lot was a seven-story tower, its windows marked with soot. Fighting a fire at the top of a ladder extended that far just might give even an orbital skiff racer acrophobia.
“And there is our Justice Center and jail, busting its seams at the moment.” This time the driver pointed at a large, three-story building with only long narrow windows above the first floor. The windows were open this afternoon; Kris thought she got a whiff of the place as the truck drove into the garage of a fire-house and the doors closed behind them.
Ron was there, looking very tired. Somehow he’d managed a change of clothes and a shower. At least the smoke smudge was gone from his face. When he saw her, his eyes lit up. He was smiling as he helped her down, and if he managed a hug for an on-duty Naval officer, it was done with no clear violation of the regulations. He looked like he wanted to kiss her, but stepped back instead. “How much did you bring us?”
“And I thought bringing you all I could spare from my armory was going to surprise you.”
“Steve said he’d try to wrangle as much loose as he could.”
Kris pouted. “So being Mama Claus wasn’t my idea.”
“It was,” Ron assured her as he walked her back to the tailgate of the truck. “It’s just that really great military minds run in the same direction.”
“You’re laying it on awful thick,” Jack muttered.
“Keep it up, I like it,” Kris said, enjoying the moment, but business was business. “You have a map of this area?”
“In the office upstairs. Crew!” Ron shouted. “Unload this and get it moving to the other buildings. Keep it covered. The sky has eyes and we want some of this to be a surprise.” So the mayor understood the benefit of operational security. Kris followed him upstairs while weapons, covered with sections of hosing and other fire gear, were run out one door. Another truck came in and started unloading.
Gassy and Pinky were upstairs in a small conference room; long table down the middle, empty chairs around it. A map on it showed the area. Beside the two Kris knew were four others Ron introduced as leaders of two hunting clubs, a sharp-shooting rifle club and the Emergency Search and Rescue Club.
“What are you equipped with?” Kris asked.
“Hunting rifles, competition-quality rifles, those kinds of things,” Ron said.
“Anyone know how to handle a crew-served machine gun, a grenade launcher, an assault rifle?”
“Some of our folks have trained with Steve’s crew. Few more spent time off planet in the service before they came here. We’re not stupid hicks, Princess,” the shortest of the four said.
“Good. You want to show me your deployment?” That brought only worried looks from the group.
“That’s our problem,” Ron said. “We know there’s a way to do this, but we don’t have any idea what it is. Short of putting some of our folks behind every window and starting shooting when it seems right . . .” He ended with a shrug.
“No one shoots until Ron says to,” Kris said. She’d started to say “I give the order,” but she caught that social blunder. “The idea is to solve this without a lot of your friends and family ending up suddenly and totally dead. You get my drift?”
“But how?” the tallest of the four asked.
Kris slipped through the men and leaned on the table, eyeing the map. A photo had been overlaid on topo lines, along with representation of sewer, power, and other civic services.
“Ron, can you close down this town. I didn’t see a lot of traffic on the road coming in, but I saw more than I wanted. I doubt Hank will march his guys in from the airport. Unless you want to have shuttles shooting up your highway to clear a space in traffic for a runway . . .”
“Gassy, order Black Out and Peaceful Kingdom,” Ron said. “For you, Kris, that means everyone has thirty minutes to get home . . . Please . . . and we really don’t want people shooting at things. It also means I’m out of a job.” Kris glanced at Ron to see if he was joking. He wasn’t. “Those orders are in our charter. But any official who invokes them has seventy-two hours to face a committee of city commissioners, explain his reasoning for what he did and why he shouldn’t be booted out of office for the next four weeks while he seeks reelection. And anyone who didn’t like being bossed like that runs against him.”
“Nice system you have here,” was all Kris said.
“So, how do you say we fight this guy, now that you’ve taken control, Longknife,” the shorter one said.
“She hasn’t taken control, Ernie,” Ron told the short one. “I’m asking her, as someone who’s been in a firefight or two to offer us some suggestions.”
Kris
ignored the alpha dog contest and eyed the map. “Is there a runway or major highway south of here?” she said, waving at the empty space on the other side of the table. She missed a battle board she could zoom in and out.
“No,” Ron said. “Farmland, some cranberry bogs, then forest until you get to the coast.”
“So he has to land on the highway I just drove in on?”
“If he’s using the liberty launches, yes.”
“And hook a left at the exit sign, then march his troops up the road through all these nice businesses and homes,” Jack said, following the path with his finger. “Where do we engage him?”
“We don’t,” Kris said.
“What do you mean,” the short fellow, Ernie, snapped.
“You planning on shooting first?” Kris asked.
“He invades my planet. I’m within my rights to shoot him.”
“Is he invading or staging a parade?” Kris said, and told them about the “leak” she suddenly developed. “I’ve got him isolated to the forward portion of my station. If he does anything, he’ll have to blow my fire curtains. That forces him to do something close to an act of war and I can start shooting. At the moment, he can’t find a way to get in a good position to take over High Chance, so I suspect he’ll come down here and get his guys free from the “terrorists” holding them “hostage.”
“We’re not . . .” Ernie started, but the tall one rested a hand on his shoulder.
“If we’re under siege by Peterwald’s fleet, who’s gonna be out there, telling our side of the story. You?” The tall one took his hand off Ernie and offered it to Kris. “I’m Wee Willy to most. I like your station stunt. You got another one in your hip pocket? I hear stories that Longknifes do amazing things.”
Ernie muttered something Kris ignored.
“Sometimes we pull rabbits out of our hats. Sometimes the rabbits pull our hats out of our more fundamental parts.” That got a chuckle. Kris leaned on the map. “He lands here.” She fingered the road. “He’s done nothing. He marches through this suburban area. We really don’t want to start something. Lot of women and kids.” She raised an eyebrow. No one questioned her.
Kris Longknife: Resolute Page 29