Daring (11 page)
“Pardon me for correcting you, Your Highness,” the professor said. “I did not say sleeping quarters. That allotment is the total room for their sleeping and wash space. It includes their contribution to their work spaces, public rooms, and hallways. We're still debating whether or not they even had hallways. Even in the command center.
“The only space not included in this allotment was a small hold full of rare-earth ores recently extracted from the moon. That hold and Engineering. That would include the reactors and the pressurized tanks for reaction mass. I should point out that we found several bunks in Engineering in what we think was the control room.”
“Oh. My. God.” Vicky said.
Around Kris, the room bubbled at a low boil as, once again, people struggled to come to terms with what any rational human being would consider impossible.
It was Penny who slowly rose to her feet. She went to touch the ship on the screen. The Navy officer whispered something that Kris didn't get, but apparently Mimzy, Penny's computer, did.
An image of the gas giant appeared on the screen with the alien ship. On the screen, the giant regained ten percent of its mass, swelling noticeably.
“What kind of species could suck up ten percent of a gas giant? Then, having that kind of reaction mass to move themselves and their creation, would cram their population into a ship, allowing only twelve cubic meters to an individual?”
The room fell silent as Penny spoke.
When she finished, there was a pause. A brief one. Then the room exploded as a number of people made off quickly for the restrooms.
Others headed for the bar, giving loud voice to their need for a drink.
14
Kris sat in her chair, staring off into space. Literally. The forward screen was back to the view from the external monitors. Stars flew by. The moon occasionally came into view. More often, the gas giant that had caused this struggle with cognitive dissonance made its own appearance.
It had been a long time since Kris had been tempted, really tempted, to order a drink. So far she was winning.
Still, she wouldn't take a bet that she would be sober come midnight.
The senior NCOs aboard the
Wasp
made sure that none of the junior enlisted abused the privilege of the ship's pubs. The problem was, there were only officers in the Forward Lounge at the moment, officers from four different Navies. From the looks of empties piling up on some tables, adult supervision was desperately needed.
Wasp
made sure that none of the junior enlisted abused the privilege of the ship's pubs. The problem was, there were only officers in the Forward Lounge at the moment, officers from four different Navies. From the looks of empties piling up on some tables, adult supervision was desperately needed.
“Jack, inform the barkeep the limit tonight is three drinks.”
“That sounds like a good idea. We're a long way from a brewery, and it doesn't look like we'll be getting a new supply anytime soon.” He shoved off for the bar.
Kris wouldn't take any bets that there weren't several stills in her fleet. She also wouldn't recommend that any of the captains in her Fleet of Discovery do a serious shakedown of chief's country. Still, it was clear she needed to limit how people responded to the shock they'd all just taken to their system.
Vicky came over to Kris's table. She cast a worried glance over her shoulder toward Admiral Krätz but said nothing.
The admiral was one of those with several empties in front of him. Kris was a bit surprised at that. Still, the man had a family. He was looking forward to grandkids. He had talked of retirement.
What kind of enemy had they just stumbled into? How large a fleet and army could they muster? Kris's mind still boggled at trying to answer those questions.
“Is it as bad as it seems?” Vicky asked.
Kris ran a worried hand through her hair. “I don't know. Maybe we should turn around, run back to human space, pull in the welcome mat, and hide under the bed. Who knows how long it would be before whatever it is out here stumbles across us?”
“That is one option,” Ron said. In a fashion, the three of them were seated at Kris's table. The two that Kris was familiar with took in the scene with some equilibrium. The Army fellow was showing red alarms around his residual gill slits. Occasionally, Ted would lean over and say something to him in Iteeche.
Nelly told Kris that the Iteeche Navy officer was telling the Army officer that it was all right. Things would work out.
It didn't seem to be working for the Army guy. It sure wasn't working for Kris.
The urge to run away and hide under a bed was very attractive. The thirst to crawl into a bottle and forget the future had new allure.
“You damn Longknifes have murdered us all.” Like a bloody meat cleaver, that bellow cut through the noise of the room.
Kris and Vicky swung around in their seats to face Admiral Krätz. He stood at his table, swaying like a drunken bear. He swept the table with one large hand; empties flew off in the lazy arc of half a gee. Some shattered as they hit the deck. Most just landed and rolled.
The admiral pointed at Kris's table. “You damn Peterwalds and double-damned Longknifes can't mind your own business. What is it with you? You damn near got us wiped out with your bleeding Iteeches. Now you just had to go and find something bigger, meaner, badder.”
For a long moment, the admiral just snarled at Kris and Vicky. Then a shudder went through him. “And my girls will never hold their babies. My grand little ones will never see the light of day.”
A wracking sob escaped the admiral.
Kris rose from her seat and took two steps toward the drunk officer. With a glance, she caught the attention of the
Fury
's captain.
Fury
's captain.
“Captain, I think you need to take your admiral home.”
The captain reached for the arm of his commander. Admiral Krätz shook him off.
“Don't you go giving my officers orders.”
“Then you give them,” Kris snapped. “We've got problems enough. You're not going to find any answers to them in the bottoms of those glasses. Go to your ship. Sleep it off. Tomorrow, we'll put our sober heads together.”
“Come, Admiral. Let's go,” the captain said.
The large contingent from the Greenfeld fleet made a hole for their admiral, then followed him out the door.
“I've never seen him like that,” Vicky said, coming up to stand beside Kris.
“He likely has never had a night this bad,” Colonel Cortez said, joining them. “It is one thing to face battle against odds you can gauge, maneuvers you can counter. It's something else entirely to face the unknown and know that you can't protect those you love and hold dear.”
The colonel paused for a moment. “I'm none too sure how I feel about all this.”
“I don't think any of us are,” Kris admitted. She caught the eye of the senior bartender. “Let's close down for the night.”
“Last call?” someone asked hopefully.
“No, honey. Drink up. We're rolling up the floor,” the barkeep answered.
Vicky hurried off to catch the last launch from the
Wasp
to the
Fury
. Kris turned to Ron. “Shall I take you to your quarters? I understand nothing's changed.”
Wasp
to the
Fury
. Kris turned to Ron. “Shall I take you to your quarters? I understand nothing's changed.”
“That would be very gracious of you,” Ron said. “Though I should point out, I well remember the path from your Forward Lounge to my quarters. I suspect I could even find my way without all your scientists marking the path, waiting in line to pose questions for me.”
“Was it that bad?” Kris asked.
The press at the door was almost gridlock. Kris and her team waited for others to file out. Since the admirals hadn't demanded that sailors of different fleets make a hole for them, Kris didn't think she should.
Penny nudged Kris. “We're not moving all that much. Any chance we could grab a chair, sit down, and talk a bit about what all this means?”
Kris shook her head. “Penny, this is just too much for me. I've got to sleep on it. Tomorrow will be soon enough.”
Penny didn't seem happy with Kris's decision, but she said nothing more.
Ron was interested in how Kris had spent her time since he left. It took her mind off the present to describe the fun of chasing pirates and claiming new territory . . . for the hostile Peterwald Empire.
He considered that funny . . . and time better spent than his own. He'd been locked down in the Imperial Palace. He was required to be available on five-minute notice to meet with several very important committees. He was required to wait upon them . . . but in the end they never called him for a personal report.
He brought his hands together and moved his four thumbs in circles around each other. “Do you have a saying like that?”
“Twiddling your thumbs?” Kris said with a laugh, as she and her team finally passed through the doors from the Forward Lounge into the passageway that led aft.
The next moment an explosion threw Kris against Ron.
Jack crashed into her back and they all ended up in a heap on the deck.
Behind them, the swinging doors of the Forward Lounge blew out. Immediately, the airtight doors slammed shut and clanged as they locked down.
“Hull Breach,” the public-address system announced. “Hull Breach in the Forward Lounge.”
15
Kris scrambled back to her feet. Jack tried to push her aft, but the passageway was a solid mass of people, all trying to regain their feet and move in the same direction.
Preferably at the same time.
Kris edged her way around Jack so she could get a better view through one of the small vision plates in the airtight doors.
All she saw was smoke. Something had exploded. Some of the furniture had caught fire. The smoke didn't last long as both air and smoke were sucked out through several rents in the hull.
One body, Kris hoped he was already dead, went with the smoke.
The checkered tabletops, however, were also doing their job. Some had caught fire. But others held their circular form and rode on the blasting air currents toward the rents in the ship's structure. On the ceiling, valves opened, releasing globs of sealant that also rode the wind torrents to help the deforming tabletops shore up the holes.
All this was done quickly enough that the other bar crew were able to keep their holds on whatever they had grabbed and avoid being sucked out into the cold vacuum.
“Pressure has been stabilized in the Forward Lounge. Make way for damage control parties. Clear the passageways for damage-control parties,” the ship's computer repeated.
“Kris,” Jack said.
“Yes, yes,” Kris said, backing up and taking the first turn off the main passageway so that a dozen sailors in space suits carrying gear could pass her.
“Penny. Penny,” Kris called.
The cop's daughter was at her elbow in a moment.
“That was no accident,” Kris said. “Get a forensic team together from Jack's Marines. By breakfast tomorrow morning, I want to know what went down in there.”
“No sleep for the wicked,” Abby said with a smile for the Navy officer who'd just been ordered to do an all-nighter.
“Abby,” Kris said.
“I was just headed for bed,” her maid replied.
“You've been getting lazy, what with no one trying to kill me,” Kris said, reaching for her maid's elbow. “Looks like someone just did. Or maybe they were aiming for Vicky. Or someone else. You're the spy. You tell me what the game is this time and who's calling the shots.”
“Aye, aye, bossy princess,” Abby said.
Which left Kris with nothing better to do than provide an unnecessary guide for Ron back to his quarters.
She paused at the hatch that led into Iteeche country.
“You want to come inside?” Ron asked her.
Kris shook her head, then she added, “No.” In crossevolutionary-track discussions, body language was more open to mistakes than a simple word.
“I've got some tough decisions to make, tomorrow. And they just keep getting harder.”
“I do not think that bomb will help,” Ron said.
“Not likely,” Kris agreed. “I need to do some thinking inside my own skull.”
“Then I will tell you here what I would have told you inside. I was in much trouble after my last visit to human space.”
“What kind of trouble?” Kris asked.
“Many different kinds. My Emperor was not happy that I brought back no promises of help from your people.”
“I'm sorry about that,” Kris said. “I tried.”
“I know that you did. What is written is written. However, my chooser was also very unhappy with me.”
That took Kris aback. “How come?”
“He was not happy to learn what you and I had concluded about how the war was fought.”
“Oh,” Kris said. “Neither was my grampa Ray. I don't think any of the people who made the tough decisions were happy about us figuring out what they really did during the war.”
“No. He was most unhappy. Before he let me join you on this voyage of search and discovery, he made me swear on my hope of being a chooser myself that I would not spend much time with you.”
“It was that bad, huh,” Kris said.
“Yes. I have sworn to go with you. To see what you see and to report back to my Emperor and chooser what you find. I am afraid that our quiet times of conversation will not be a part of this trip.”
Kris nodded, risking a tight smile. Just when she thought she might be getting to know a guy, wouldn't you know his mom would tell him she wasn't the kind of girl a nice guy like him brought home.
“I understand,” she said.
Ron stood aside for his Army officer to open the hatch and peer inside. Once he concluded the humans had no deviltry waiting for them, he waved the Imperial Representative into his rooms. In a moment, the hatch closed and was dogged down solidly.
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