“They better not be,” Vicky said, and rattled off a long string of letters, numbers, words, and even a whistle at the end.
The wall of spiderwebbing blinked black for a moment, then came up steady with a schematic of the Tourin not at all different from that on the opposite wall.
“Sorry,” Vicky said. “It’s all password encrypted. I didn’t expect the files to get here so fast.”
“You did threaten to shoot the man,” Kris pointed out.
“Yes, but I still thought it would take more time to get the information together and over the net.”
“I think State Security has a priority for ‘it gets there now, or I get shot,’ ” Captain Krätz said.
Kris hoped he was joking, but wouldn’t have taken the bet. The nod from Vicky looked far too of course for her to even consider that bet. For the first time in her life Kris could honestly think, Thank God I was born a Longknife.
How can the Peterwalds run an empire this way?
Are they running it, or is it running them? Killing them?
Point taken.
Kris focused on the Tourin. Where warships like the Typhoon were built small and slim and rounded to offer lasers less of a target, the Tourin was huge and built like a brick to contain more cabin space and, apparently, to give each premium cabin its own view out. Forward, the ship tapered deck by deck with the most expensive rooms having both views out and ahead. The bridge was at the very apex of the stepped pyramid.
“Do we target the bridge?” Kris asked, half to herself, half to those around her. Captain Drago had stayed on his own bridge to oversee the powering-up process. Still, Kris had one cruiser captain. He was shaking his head.
“I don’t think the bridge will get you anything. There’s a backup control room well aft, just before Engineering,” Krätz said. On the schematic behind Kris, a space glowed red just forward of where she’d expect the power plant to begin. “These liners are intended to be easily converted to either troop transports, or, if big lasers are provided, ships able to stand against anything but a battleship.”
“Might explain your security man’s reluctance to provide this to us,” Abby said.
Captain Krätz gently cleared his throat. “You do know, Your Highness, that your maid, now apparently Army officer, regularly publishes information about what you do?”
“Oh,” Kris said, a puzzle piece falling into place. “Is that why that Security colonel was about to swallow his cud? He was meeting Abby face-to-face and couldn’t figure out how to react to a spy being in our midst.”
Abby, for her part, did a letter-perfect curtsy.
“You don’t sound surprised,” Krätz said.
“Abby, what’s it worth to you not to have your cover blown?” Kris called cheerfully over her shoulder.
“Hey, not fair. You’re supposed to be paying me for early copies of my reports and slightly modified ones that you can use for your paperwork.” The maid sounded very unhappy.
“It’s not me you need to bribe. Looks to me like you better buy this captain’s silence.”
“Me, too,” Vicky called. “I always need a new dress.”
“What bribe?” was a low growl coming from the door as the State Security colonel followed Gunny in.
“A bit of levity,” Kris growled right back, “to lighten the burden of figuring out how to damage a starliner with five thousand souls aboard.”
“Why damage it?” the colonel said. “Just blow it up.”
That brought a strained silence.
“Kris,” Vicky said in a low voice, “that is how I feel too. It’s my dad’s life we’re talking about.”
“Your dad and a whole lot of people down on that planet,” Kris agreed. “But it’s not as easy as that. Has anyone calculated the kinetic power of one of our pulse lasers?” Normally Kris would have asked Nelly to do it, but the low hum in the back of Kris’s head said that the old girl was fully occupied.
“I’ve got it,” Penny said. “Entered it before that battle above Chance and never purged it.”
Beside Kris, Vicky swallowed hard at the mention of the battle in which her brother died. She also threw Penny a hard glance, as if memorizing her face.
Penny looked back just as hard. “A lot of us fought at Chance, and my husband died stopping those battleships above Wardhaven.”
Vicky started to open her mouth.
Kris cut her off. “Enough, girls. A lot of people are hurting from a lot of things that might have been better not done. Today, we have today’s problems. Captain, can you tell us something about the thickness of the hide on this thing? The decks and strength girders.”
“That is a state secret,” the colonel pointed out.
“You can keep the secret and start looking for a new First Citizen, or you can tell us and maybe we can save his life. Your call. Or should I have Miss Victoria call Lieutenant General Boyng again?”
The colonel in black looked like he’d swallowed something bitter, but he nodded Captain Krätz’s way. That Greenfeld officer ran off a list of numbers.
Penny fed them into her computer, then paused a moment before announcing, “Not good. We’ll achieve complete burn through, one side to the other, using only twenty-five percent of the power of one of our four pulse lasers.”
“So we can punch four or maybe sixteen holes in that can,” Kris said. “Can we slice it in half? Quarters? Sixteenths?”
Penny eyed her wrist unit. “Half, definitely. Maybe into three chunks. Not four.”
“And they would hit the planet in three places with one-third the power,” Colonel Cortez said.
“No,” Kris said at the same time Krätz did. Kris deferred to the Greenfeld captain.
“If we do anything to the engines as we pass, the ship stops accelerating. Its course assumes that it will keep its acceleration constant right up to collision. If we stop its acceleration, it will miss the planet entirely.”
“Assuming they do not change its course,” the security colonel snapped. “Just one hit in the right part of its power plant, and the containment field collapses. The ship and terrorists vanish, and we have no more problem.”
“Kris . . .” Vicky said, not quite pleading.
“That is an option,” Kris said slowly. “But it is my last option. I did not put on this uniform to kill five thousand people whose only crime was buying a ticket to ride or taking a job to pander to them. Am I understood, Colonel!”
Kris locked eyes with the man from State Security. He glared right back at her.
“My duty is to the state, and the First Citizen.”
“And you know way too much about blowing up a ship for my liking and seem only too quick to do it.”
“Enough, the two of you!” Vicky shouted. “If you don’t want to hit the electric generators, what do you intend to hit?”
Kris ran her hands along the schematic on the wall. “The bridge, the living spaces have no value to us. The colonel is right, we need to hit the engineering area,” she said, coming to rest there. “The question is how do we cripple and drive the ship hopelessly off course, so that it can’t be put back on course,” Kris glanced at the colonel. “But not blow it apart.”
“The engines,” Penny and Captain Krätz said together.
“Will someone turn the ship engine-on to me?” Kris asked, again not wanting to bother Nelly. For once her pet computer did not cut in with some snide remark about her being able to calculate pi and chew gum at the same time. Nelly was busy!
“I got it moving,” Chief Beni said from where he still sat at the table, quietly observing the rest.
Kris found herself facing a three-quarters on view of the aft end of the Tourin. Four huge rocket motors glowed along the middle of the ship’s end. Above and below them nestled three more equally huge bells. A short row of two topped the three.
Fourteen huge rocket motors pumped tons of hot plasma into space, so a million tons of human engineering could safely travel among the stars—normally.
Now it
was a million tons of death for those aboard and those on the planet below. Unless Kris stopped it.
“Can the jets move?” Kris asked. “How do they steer?”
“Very carefully,” Captain Krätz said dryly. “Assuming a speed of between .95 and 1.05 gees, there is a battery of steering jets circling the bow, amidships, and aft that make it as maneuverable as a ballet dancer . . . at 1 gee. At this speed, God only knows what they would do if you cut away three or four of the rocket motors. Nip three or four more, the thing will take off doing loops. They’ll never get it back under control.”
“How much time will we have to take our shot?” Kris asked.
“Somewhere between 1 and 1.5 seconds. Assume 1.25 as most likely,” Chief Beni said.
The wall went blank, speckled by a few unblinking stars. Then one of them grew huge, filled the screen, and was gone. If anyone blinked, they didn’t see a thing.
“Thank you, Chief, I expected something like that.”
“But now you’ve seen it,” he said. “By the way, the reason we don’t know just how much time you’ll be in range of the Tourin is because we aren’t sure just what our acceleration will be.”
“Captain Drago said 3.2 gees,” Kris said. “Maybe more.”
“Or maybe less. I called one of my buddies who has a buddy down in Engineering. Turns out they never tested this ship above 2.25 gees, Your Highness.”
“Didn’t we do 3 gees or so around Panda’s moon?” Penny asked.
“Yeah,” the chief agreed, “and the snipes sweated blood. We do it steady for three, four hours this time.”
“Thanks for the clarification,” Kris said . . . and meant it.
“So all is not so well in the vaunted Wardhaven Navy,” the security colonel said with a smile.
“Whose ship is ready to split its guts to get under way and whose ships are tied up like beached whales?” Vicky shot back.
The colonel swallowed his smile.
“Chief, give me the broadside view, again.” The wall changed. “Where are the main electrical generators?”
Captain Krätz eyed the other schematic, then indicated an area forward of the engines. A bit farther forward were two huge areas that could only be the fusion reactors.
Kris put her finger on one. “I hit here, and what happens?”
“Nothing or everything,” Krätz said.
Kris nodded along with him. “My shot could go through and do nothing but stir the plasma the wrong way. Or I could take out enough superconductors to let the plasma eat the ship.”
“Everyone dies,” Jack concluded.
“Farther aft, I hit the electrical generators and, again, everyone dies. Only if I hit the rocket engines do people live.”
“But if you miss aft,” Vicky pointed out, “my dad dies.”
“Yes,” Kris whispered softly.
“Could you slice the ship in half?” Colonel Cortez asked.
“Why?” Jack asked.
“Well, the other young lady mentioned a few moments ago that you might be able to cut it in half or thirds.”
“Yes,” Penny said. “Our lasers have the power for it.”
“And the ship is a huge target, is it not?”
“It looks that way,” Kris agreed.
“Where is the reaction mass carried?” the infantry colonel went on.
Captain Krätz eyed the other files for a moment, then said, “In huge tanks in the center of the ship.” He stepped to Kris’s schematic and ran his hands along the middle of the drawing. “From just where it starts to taper at the bow to where it starts to narrow at the stern.”
“And what if you cut into those tanks? Where would the reaction mass go? Could the engines continue their huge acceleration if that reaction mass was bleeding out elsewhere than the reactors?”
“Captain Krätz, how much reaction mass would the Tourin have on board at this point in her voyage? How much is she gulping down to keep up this acceleration? Could we damage her enough to make this whole stunt impossible?”
The Greenfeld captain just shook his head.
“And assuming we unleashed the reaction mass into the ship, what would it do to the people on board?” Kris said.
“And if we did separate the forward half of the ship from the aft half,” Penny pointed out, “the havoc as different parts of the ship lost power, the wrenching as the forward portion twisted away from the aft portion with its reactors still trying to push the ship. No, I’m sorry, it would be more merciful to grant these people a quick death. I have been on a wrecked ship.”
Once again, the room fell silent.
Kris spread her arms to reach back for the engineering spaces and ran her fingers over the tiny target she and Nelly would be aiming for. “So this is it. The engines themselves.”
“That or the containment field,” the colonel said.
“We are Wardhaven Navy, not murderers.”
“If your softheartedness causes our First Citizen to die, there will be a lot to talk about.”
“Enough,” Vicky half shouted. She walked in Kris’s footsteps, running her hands along the large bulk of passenger area, and deep within it, the reaction mass to feed the reactor.
“It’s a big, easy target. Are you sure it’s not the best?”
“We don’t know how much reaction mass is in it,” Kris pointed out, raising a finger. “We’d have to use two of our lasers to burn through any try at cutting the ship in half. That would be chancy at the best of times.” A second finger came up. “At the speed we’d be traveling, it’s a huge gamble.” A third finger joined the others. “We could punch lots of holes in the tanks, and they’d still have enough to complete their suicidal dive.” All four fingers were up now. “Yes, Vicky, it would be the easiest to hit, but no, there is no good chance that we’d be hitting what we need to hit.”
“Which brings us to Engineering,” Vicky said. “I’ve never understood power plants. I’ve had to walk through several. They make a lot of noise and have huge things spinning around and a lot of places marked ‘Do Not Enter.’ I will have to trust that you are aiming at the right target.”
“I tell you she is wrong,” the security colonel snapped.
“Don’t be tiresome, Colonel. It is the measures of State Security that have left my captain’s ship a beached observer of this drama. Has someone chosen to take advantage of your brain-dead measures, or were State Security’s orders an integral part of this plan? I wonder.”
The colonel opened his mouth several times before “Of course not. You can’t even think such things” finally got out.
“Oh, but I can, and I think my dad will, if he lives. Captain Krätz, may I have a word with you? In private.”
The ensign led the captain into the passageway. The colonel made to follow.
At a nod from Kris, Gunny stepped on the colonel’s polished toes. “Pardon me, sir,” Gunny said, but by the time the colonel recovered, he found himself surrounded by an infantry colonel and a Marine captain. An Army lieutenant and a Navy lieutenant, too.
Kris looked at the schematics one more time. “I am finished here. Jack, I’ll be on the bridge, setting up a shoot with Nelly as soon as she’s available. Tell Ensign Peterwald that she is free to join me with her associates when she is done.”
Kris passed the ensign and her captain in the passageway, their heads together. So that was what a palace coup looked like. Kris hoped it didn’t come down to that. Vicky deserved a better chance at survival than she’d have today. Given three or four years, who knew what the woman could grow into.
Hopefully, someone who liked Longknifes better than most Peterwalds did.
51
“We’ve got the minimum containment field up. Prepare to release antimatter into Reactor A,” Captain Drago said, as Kris entered the bridge. Silently, she slipped into a high-gee station that was in the usual place for weapons. Careful not to jiggle any elbows, she left the station cold and inert.
“Captain, we’ve got a steep dro
p in power from the station,” Sulwan suddenly announced. “Containment is weakening.”
“Hold the antimatter,” the captain ordered.
Kris snapped her commlink and raised the station chief. “This is Princess Kristine. We were promised power. We are at a critical stage. Who cut it? They are criminals and enemies of the state. Do I need to talk to General Boyng?”
“No. No, ma’am, I swear it’s just a glitch. We got a lot of ships making demands we aren’t anywhere close to rated for it.”
“Get us power,” Kris demanded.
“Yes, ma’am,” and the man was off-screen.
“Should I rely on our own auxiliary power?” Drago asked. “I wanted to save it to jump-start our second reactor. Get us out of here faster.”
“Keep auxiliary ready to use antimatter, but see if we can get a start using station power the next time it comes up.”
“Station power coming up to specs,” Sulwan announced.
“Engineering ready to bleed antimatter into the reactor.”
“Everything is ready,” Nelly said in her normal voice.
“No questions?” Kris asked.
“I think we will rewrite the procedures on how to do this,” Nelly said. “Nothing our boffins and I couldn’t handle. But I’d hate to see anyone do it without all we have here.”
“Nelly, we need to work on a firing solution when this is done.”
“I figured we would. First things first. We have plasma. The containment is holding. We have enough plasma to start our own power generation. Yes!” The computer’s cheer was echoed by several on the bridge and over the commlink.
“We have fusion,” Captain Drago announced. “We are growing the plasma core. Thank God we are taking electricity directly from the core. Give me another five minutes, and I’ll be ready to jump-start Reactor B. Sortie in fifteen minutes, Princess.”
“What do you mean you’re drawing power directly from the core?” Captain Krätz asked as he escorted his ensign onto the bridge. The colonel behind him had heard the question; he said nothing but seemed to want to look at everything at once.
“Something we can’t talk about,” one captain said to the other. “However, we do have plasma and should be under way in fifteen minutes.” Drago tapped his commlink. “Set getting-under way details, minimum.” Throughout the ship, came the noise of hands moving to stations.
Kris Longknife: Intrepid Page 34