Kris Longknife: Defender (20 page)

“I expect that assumption to be valid,” Kris said.

“So I can maybe get a hundred and fifty to two hundred and fifty thousand tons of metal to build fishing boats, freighters, aircraft, and a whole lot of trucks to bring in whatever food we find in all the out-of-the-way places.”

“Is that enough Smart Metal?” Kris asked.

“It will have to be,” the old Navy man said. “We haven’t even begun looking at what the industrial folks can add to this. I hear we located a crater on the moon way up north. If what I read was right, it’s got a lot of water mixed in with its dust, and its regolith is rich in iron. They can build a stone wall around it, top it off with an iron or steel roof, get a decent magnetic field going to protect the workers, then leach most of the Smart Metal out of the plants.”

He stared at the overhead. “That could add twenty or thirty thousand more tons, but what I really want is steel from that crater. Steel for guns. Steel for boats. Steel to make trucks.”

Then he eyed Kris. “Of course, batteries and power would come in handy, too.”

“Have we got anyone to skipper and crew a fishing boat?” Amanda asked.

“Nelly?” Kris asked.

“There are several people in the fleet who worked summers as deckhands on fishing boats both on Musashi and Wardhaven. Hey, we got lucky. There’s a chief, called back from retirement, who spent his last five years skippering a fishing boat up in the northern waters of North Continent, Kris. He’s on the
Connie
.”

“Nelly, send to Captain Sampson, request release of this chief immediately to Navy yard. Make that soonest.”

“Sent, Kris. Received on the
Constellation
. Ah, Kris, Sampson sends back, ‘Why are you transferring him from my command?’”

Jack whistled. The admiral’s eyes got wide. Penny shook her head. “She sounds kind of like a young woman I know,” she said.

“I did not respond to my first order with a question. Not even half of my orders.”

“Yes,” Jack agreed, clearly lying manfully like a husband should.

“Kris, there may be a problem here,” Nelly said. “The chief has sent you a Private and Personal e-mail requesting reassignment from the
Constellation
. It’s one of about a hundred that I’ve been sitting on because I don’t know what to do with them officially.”

Now it was Kris’s turn to whistle. A hundred requests amounted to a quarter of the frigate’s crew when you included Marines and scientists.

“Admiral, any suggestions?” Kris said.

“You talking to this civilian?” the older man said, not suppressing a grin. “I strongly suspect this was what my king meant when he told me that I was a contractor, not a Navy officer this cruise.”

He paused, started to say something. Paused again, then did open his mouth. “It seems to me that Lieutenant Commander Sampson has a leadership challenge facing her. It also seems to me, as an old ship driver and fleet management type, that you, Commodore, have a leadership challenge facing you. Actually, several, since I walked in here, but you know what I mean.”

“I think I do,” Kris said and reflected on her choices. “Admiral, will you be needing the chief to help you design your fishing fleet between now and oh, 1400 tomorrow?”

“I got plenty of irons in my fires. No.”

“Then I’ll kick my leadership challenge down the road until then.”

“Kick. I like that idea,” the admiral said, and stood. “If you don’t mind, I got business to attend to.”

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Benson. Have a good evening,” Kris said, formally.

Once he was gone, she added, “Poor guy,” and turned to Jack.

“Do you need to be talking to some of your Marines?”

“That looks to be where I’m headed next. I want to drop a squad or two down with the beach fisherman at o’dark-early tomorrow morning. We kill a few of their problems, and it’s a visible start. I also need to talk to Captain Hayakawa. His company had just completed a six-week jungle-training rotation when they got assigned to you. Someone must have thought it was a jungle around you,” Jack deadpanned.

He got his laugh from all present, except Kris.

“I think his best jungle troopers would be the ones to use to make first contact,” Jack said. “Jacques, it would also be nice if you could come along with us.”

“Yes,” Amanda said, “he’s the anthropologist, and I’m just an economist.”

Kris could see heart’s blood pouring all over the deck of her office. “I’m sorry, Amanda,” Kris said.

“I can open a door between your quarters,” Nelly said helpfully.

“No need to,” Jacques jumped to say.

“Oh, yes, right,” Nelly actually stuttered. Kris suspected her computer had just checked and found the door already there.

“Jack, you go handle your drop operations. Amanda, you and Jacques enjoy what time you have together. Jack, leave a message for when you need Jacques tomorrow but don’t have his computer tell him until an hour before you need him.”

“You think that will give him enough time to prepare?” Jack asked.

“I’m a field man, Colonel, I’ve always got a bag packed. And besides, there’s not much to prepare for with these people. We either won’t see them, or they’ll hit us with poison darts, or they’ll let us talk to them. It’s a simple die roll.”

All three left, leaving just Penny and Masao with Kris. “I assume,” Penny said, “that because Amanda didn’t need a door opened by Nelly, there’s already a door.”

“Yes,” Nelly admitted.

“That is another one of my leadership challenges,” Kris said with a sigh. “I strongly suspect that contracts, scientists, and some Sailors have paired up their quarters and made doors,” Kris admitted. “After I hunt for the
Hornet
, I’ll have to do something about it. For now, it’s every captain for him- or herself.”

“Kris, Sampson is the one exception to the door thing,” Nelly said. “She has most of her enlisted personnel living sixteen to a bay. Chiefs and officers are four to a room. Men and women to separate quarters. Only she and three officers have private quarters. Sampson maintains her ship at Condition Baker. It’s the only one in the fleet.”

“And a quarter of her crew want off,” Penny said.

“Problems, problems, problems,” Kris said, rubbing her eyes and failing to suppress a yawn. “I’m sure you two have better places to be.” Kris stood. “Nelly, vanish the door from my night quarters to the main passageway. Tell Abby if she wants to see me, she either opens a door or takes the long walk through my day quarters.”

“She’s opening a door, but there’s a lock, and it’s only on her side,” Nelly reported.

“Do you want me to go out on your cruise tomorrow?” Penny asked.

“No need. The information will be as plain as the ship’s success or failure. You and Masao keep tracking the reports coming in from the discovery expeditions. They either find something, or we starve.”

And maybe, if you two keep working close together, you’ll find a way to make a door between your hearts.

“Oh, Penny, aren’t you about due to make lieutenant commander?” Kris asked.

“I honestly don’t know. I haven’t been doing the career thing very well, touching all the bases, getting my ticket punched. You know.”

“You’ve been following a Longknife around and staying alive,” Kris said through another yawn. “Nelly, cut papers for my signature. Penny gets her extra stripe the first of next month.”

“And then you’ll outrank me,” the Musashi Navy officer observed.

Oops. Maybe Kris hadn’t accomplished quite what she intended. She needed some rest. Tomorrow would come way too soon.

Commodore
Kris Longknife, ComFrigRon 4, rolled her high-gee egg out of her quarters and onto the bridge of her flagship, the
Princess Royal
. Captain Drago and a ship maintenance chief were already there, eggs parked against the bridge’s aft bulkhead.

They were observers and would play no part in this exercise.

Unless or until something went wrong and Kris ordered them forward.

Captain Kitano of the
Princess Royal
sat in her high-gee egg in the middle of her bridge, surrounded by the watch. Kris noticed that someone had made all the combat stations disappear into the deck. A good idea, one she wished she’d thought of.

If you’re in an egg, who needs a board you can’t get your hands on?

With no flag bridge, Kris chose to roll her egg over next to the skipper’s before she ordered, “Signal the squadron to sortie. The flag first followed by the others in order of their berth.”

That order was passed to her command . . . and then the fun started.

The little
Intrepid
wasn’t supposed to sortie next, but after waiting four minutes for the
Constellation
to get underway ahead of her, she requested permission and departed, taking second station behind the flag.

Six minutes later, the
Constitution
also requested permission to get underway, and took third slot.

The
Connie
didn’t get away from the pier for another ten minutes and trailed well after the rest of the squadron.

Not a good start, Lieutenant Commander Sampson,
Kris thought.

Kris set the fleet speed at one-gee acceleration and, at the last second, set ship interval at one thousand kilometers, echeloned left at two hundred kilometers.

She’d planned for a shorter, 250-kilometer interval but something told her if she didn’t want dings on her ships, she’d better give them a lot of room.

The squadron spread out as it followed her toward Alwa’s large moon. The plan was to swing around it and return to Canopus Station without doing any harm.

Ships deployed to her satisfaction, Kris gave her next order. “The fleet will go to two gees on my mark.”

The
P Royal
’s comm reported the order received and acknowledged. Then Kris said, “Mark,” and the egg gave her a kick in the seat of her pants.

Beside her, Captain Kitano grunted. “That wasn’t in any of the manuals I read.”

“I think they want you to know you’ve just jacked up your acceleration. I’ve been meaning to write a letter to Mitsubishi and ask them to make the kick a bit less. In my spare time.”

“I’ll add that letter to my to-do list, in my spare time,” the skipper of Kris’s flag said.

“Let’s see what we can do with all those nifty toys the taxpayers gave us. Signal to squadron, discharge main forward battery on my mark. Target empty space.”

Comm quickly reported the squadron ready, and Kris gave her mark.

All four ships immediately fired. For the little
Intrepid
, it was a four 18-inch volley reaching out one hundred thousand kilometers into space. For the big frigates it was supposed to be a six gun shoot. It was for the lead two. Six 20-inch lasers reached out to 150,000 kilometers.

Constellation
only managed a three gun volley.

“Did I count that right?” Kris asked Nelly.

“It was only three lasers.”

“Send to squadron. Fire at will. Single shots will be fine if that is what you have.”

Ten seconds later, the
Intrepid
had reloaded and blasted away with a four shoot. Five seconds later, two of three heavies let loose with 20-inch lasers, in volleys six strong.

The
Intrepid
had gotten off a second four shots before the
Connie
got a single second shot off. The other two big frigates spoke again before that weak sister got off another single shot.

“Cease fire,” Kris ordered. N
ELLY, WHAT EXACTLY WAS THE
C
ONSTELLATION
’S AVAILABILITY REPORT THIS MORNING?

T
HE SAME AS IT WAS FOR THE LAST WEEK, MA’AM.
A
LL GUNS READY.
F
ULL SPEED AVAILABLE.
N
INETY-NINE PERCENT OF SYSTEMS ONLINE.

A
ND THE OTHER FRIGATES?

S
AME AS TO GUNS AND SPEED.
A
LL SYSTEMS FLUCTUATED BETWEEN NINETY-SIX AND NINETY-EIGHT PERCENT.

Kris held on to her temper with her fingernails. A commander could not afford to lose her temper. “Send to squadron. Make fleet speed three-gee acceleration on my mark.”

The communication cycle was quickly completed in the Navy way and Kris gave her mark.

Again, she got a solid kick in her rump.

“I was ready for it this time,” the skipper of the
P Royal
said, then went about her business.

Kris watched on her own screen as her squadron accelerated smoothly to three gees.

Except for the
Connie
. She stalled out at 2.46 and held at that acceleration, slowly falling behind.

N
ELLY, WHAT’S THE PROBLEM WITH THE
C
ONNIE
?

M
A’AM, ONE OF HER REACTORS HAS GONE OFF-LINE.
T
HE OTHER TWO ARE REDLINING.
I
F HER CAPTAIN KEEPS PUSHING HER AT THIS ACCELERATION, SHE’S LIKELY TO BLOW HER UP.

Or have a mutiny on her hands.
Kris scowled to herself.

“Signal from flag to
Constellation
, fall out of formation and reduce acceleration to two gees.”

“Sent and acknowledged,” the comm reported.

The trailing war wagon quit struggling and fell quickly behind.

“Flag to squadron,” Kris said, “Prepare to initiate Combat Evasion Plan 1.”

Kris gave the ships’ bridge crews time to load Nelly’s most gentle jinks program. This one was for the distant approach when the force was well out of range of their target. It had the ships moving right, left, up, down in a random pattern. If the enemy analyzed and assumed that was what they’d be facing the entire fight, that was just too bad for them. They’d be confused, and their targeting computers outfoxed when the final run in used Combat Evasion Plan 6.

“Execute,” Kris ordered, and the ships began a dance that was not quite what she intended. Even the trailing
Connie
did something. Nelly projected on the battle board in Kris’s egg just what the ships should have been doing.

What the ships were doing was not even close.

Around Kris, reports came in of material and ship fixtures failing to stay where they were supposed to as the ship went one way and equipment and gear went another. Kris politely ignored that and let Captain Kitano handle them as best she could.

When the fleet continued to fail to meet Kris’s expectations, she took action.

“Nelly, project what I’m seeing on all the ship’s main screens. Captains, the execution of this maneuver is sloppy. In a fight, we’d be picked off like tulips in a garden. Does anyone have an explanation?”

There was only silence on the net for half a minute as matters got no better.

“Your Highness, if I may put in my two cents’ worth, this is Captain Drago of the
Wasp
. We’ve been in a fight or two and we’ve survived them because of the combat evasion plans like these developed by your Commodore’s rather smart, or smart-alecky, computer.”

K
RIS,
I
’VE BEEN INSULTED.

S
HUT UP,
N
ELLY.

O
KAY, BUT HE OWES ME AN APOLOGY.

What Captain Drago had gotten was a snicker on this bridge and likely from everyone in the fleet. “What we on the
Wasp
found was that Nelly was right. We needed to be elsewhere when lasers reach for us. It’s nice to have armor. It’s better not to get hit.”

A
POLOGY ACCEPTED
, Nelly said to Kris.

“In order to meet Nelly’s stiff requirements, we needed more maneuvering jets. That meant bigger rocket motors and wider pipes pushing steam to them. We did that on the old
Wasp
, and it helped us survive one hell of a fight. As soon as I took possession of the new
Wasp
, I had my ship maintainers redo the maneuvering jets to our specs, not the official ones.

“If the skipper of the
Princess Royal
would permit me, I and the chief here are prepared to reprogram your Smart Metal to meet our jitterbugging standards.”

“Please do, Captain Drago,” Captain Kitano said.

“We’ll need five minutes, I think.”

“Send to squadron from flag, cease Combat Evasion Plan 1, reduce acceleration to one gee,” Kris ordered. All the ships settled down to normal. The
Connie
, trailing the fleet, took the opportunity to catch up.

During the same five minutes, Captain Kitano issued a slew of orders having her damage control teams fix what they could and other teams reprogram Smart Metal
TM
to shore up what had proven to be under specs.

K
RIS, WE MAY HAVE MADE A MISTAKE, ORDERING THREE-GEE MANEUVERING WHILE AT
C
ONDITION
A
BLE.

Oops,
Kris thought. Y
OU MAY WELL BE RIGHT,
N
ELLY.
W
E’LL KEEP THINGS SIMPLE UNTIL WE GET EVERYTHING STRAIGHTENED OUT.
W
HAT DO YOU THINK IS THE MAXIMUM WE CAN DO IN
C
ONDITION
A
BLE?

Nelly thought on that for a nanosecond or three. T
WO AND A HALF GEES AND
C
OMBAT
E
VASION
P
LAN 3
.

“Commodore, Captain, we’ve completed our changes to the maneuvering reaction jets. Feel free to do what you want at any time,” had more than a hint of a smile from Captain Drago.

“Captain Kitano?”

“Ready to be your test subject, Your Highness.”

“Send to squadron. Except for
Constellation
, which will continue at two-gee acceleration, fleet speed will go to 2.5 gees. Flag prepare to implement Combat Evasion Plan 3 on my order.”

Most of the fleet took off at 2.5 gees, and the
Connie
started falling behind again.

“Execute,” Kris ordered.

The
Princess Royal
took off in a jig that would have taken their breath away, except the eggs insisted they keep breathing. She jumped up, then left, down, then left again, then right and up. She slammed them against their restraints as they suddenly reduced their acceleration to 1.5 gees, then sideslipped right and shot ahead at 2.5 gees again.

On the screen, the frigate followed exactly the plan that was laid out for her.

Kris let that go on for close to a minute, listening as more reports came in that the ship really wasn’t ready for this kind of hard usage.

“Flag to
Princess Royal
. Cease evasion.”

“Navigator, terminate evasion,” Captain Kitano ordered.

The entire bridge crew breathed a sigh of relief. Kris suspected it was echoed throughout the ship.

“I’ve been doing these evasion maneuvers since I first climbed aboard a fast attack boat. It always takes one or two runs to nail down everything that can come loose.”

“Everything will be nailed down the next time we go out, Commodore. That’s a promise,” Captain Kitano said with firm intent.

The fleet decelerated to make its swing around the moon. It spread out again as it did a two-gee cruise home. There was one more test Kris needed to make, maybe not for the entire squadron, but for at least one ship and its captain.

“Flag sends to squadron. On my mark, begin test firing aft batteries. There is no target. After first salvo, fire at will. Single shots will be allowed if salvos are not possible.”

She took several deep breaths, then said, “Mark.”

Three of her four ships immediately fired full salvos. Four for the big frigates, two for smaller
Intrepid
.

The
Constellation
fired a single shot from her four aft lasers.

Since the aft batteries were smaller than the forward ones, five seconds later, the
Intrepid
got more shots from her aft battery of two 18-inchers. Both frigates followed with salvos five seconds later.

The
Connie
stayed silent.

A third salvo came from the
Intrepid
and another set from the two big ones again before Kris gave up on Sampson getting a second shot off from the
Constellation
.

“Cease fire,” she ordered, voice hard.

“The fleet has ceased fire,” the comm reported.

In silence, the fleet proceeded back to Canopus Station. Once the
P Royal
was settled on her course, Kris motored her egg for her quarters. As she passed Captain Kitano, she said, “A moment of your time, please.”

The skipper of the
Princess Royal
followed Kris into her quarters and closed the door. Kris turned her egg to face her.

“Who had command of this squadron before me?”

“No one, Commodore. I think the king always intended for you to command it.”

Kris mulled that over for a moment. Then she slowly asked a second question.

“Who was in charge of your shakedown and workup? Certainly you had a type commander.”

Captain Kitano worried her lip for a second. If it were possible to fidget in an egg, she did. “We didn’t, ma’am.”

“No type commander?” Kris said, raising an eyebrow.

“No. It seemed the Navy couldn’t decide who we belonged to. Battle Force said we had battleship guns and were theirs. Scout Force said our displacement fell in the range of their cruisers and destroyers, so we belonged to them. They were still arguing when the
Sakura
showed up. The king went aboard her, and suddenly we weren’t shaking down anymore. We had orders to sail in a week.”

“So, you had no type commander?” Kris said, trying to get a good feel for what her frigates had been through.

“Lieutenant Commander Sampson was quick to point out she was senior officer present, but the type commanders kept telling us they were appointing a squadron commander and never did. Also, none of us much cared for the tactics Sampson was pushing. Battle line with all of us following in the wake of her flagship.