Defender

33

“We have results back from our study of the alien mother ship. Oh, and I think I can move more of my scientists dirtside. I understand you need the Smart Metal from our rooms and pubs. I have asked and eighty-five to ninety percent of my team have volunteered to transfer their work to colonial territory. We will need energy to power our analytical machines, as well as housing and food. If that can be assured, I think we can convert the large barn where they hold their annual harvest festival into the Alwa/Colonial Research Center.”

“That’s gracious of you. Have you arranged any of this, or are you coming to me to see if I can make it happen?”

The professor smiled so aristocratically at Kris. “Of course, Your Highness, we will need for the viceroy to make it happen.”

Why do I bother asking dumb questions? Kris scolded herself.

“I’ll add that to my other topics for tomorrow’s meeting with the colonials,” Kris said with as much of a smile as she could manage.

NELLY, YOU CAN GET ME ON ADA’S SCHEDULE FOR TOMORROW, CAN’T YOU?

I’M CALLING. SHE’S IN A MEETING RIGHT NOW AND IS IGNORING THE GENTLE REMINDER OF HER COMPUTER THAT SHE HAS A MESSAGE COMING IN. SHOULD I CHANGE THE SETTINGS ON HER COMPUTER TO BE MORE INSISTENT?

NO, NELLY. WE’RE THEIR GUESTS, NOT THEIR OVERLORDS. LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU GET A REPLY.

“So, Professor, I thought you said you had information about the aliens and their base ships.”

“Yes, we have examined their agricultural facilities, food having become suddenly of great importance to us.”

“And?”

“We have found where their dead go, I think. While much of the hydroponics gardens are part of their sewage and recycling system, there is a portion set apart. This also has that same pattern on its ceiling that we think is a star chart. While most of the ship is designed for humanity cheek to jaw, this area grows something like grain, as well as a vine that we analyzed and which produces a fruit easily converted to alcohol.”

“Bread and wine,” Amanda said softly. “This is my body. This is my blood.”

“Yes, several of the researchers of the Catholic perspective had the same observation. We think that cremains are sprinkled in this garden, and the fruit of these plants are special to them.”

“So the bastards may have a soul,” Kris said.

“I would have put it a bit more gently,” Penny said. “Still, it shows something that we have in common, some hope for an afterlife.”

“Or rebirth,” the professor said.

“Or they just want to remember their ancestors in some fashion but can’t devote much room to it,” Masao said.

Kris noted how each of the humans had interpreted the alien behavior within the confines of their own culture and expectations. She sighed. The aliens were alien. That was the whole idea. Oh, and they want to kill us, no matter how much they remember grampa or gramma.

“Anything on the technical side?” Kris asked. “What about the reactors that were removed or the lasers?”

“Based on the power lead outs, we know they were using superconducting cables and that the reactors were large enough to power a large city. The leads into the laser bays that were also removed were the type we’d use for a 15- or 16-inch laser. Not having one to examine, I don’t know how focused the laser is, so I can only guess at range.”

“From our experience, it seemed to be equal to our range and just as deadly,” Penny said.

“I beg to differ,” the professor said. “We have reviewed the video of the battle. It is not very good, but it leaves us wondering about just how powerful their lasers were. They used a lot of them. No question about that, but regarding their range and power, gun for gun, we are not willing to give them equal power with us.”

The professor paused and gave that shrug Kris had come to expect so often from the professional scientist. “We cannot be sure based on the data available, but we think the question of who has the most powerful lasers is still very much on the table.”

“I’ll try to remember that next time I get in a shootout with one of them,” Kris said.

“If you could avoid blowing it to gas and bring something home to look at, it might be nice,” the scientist said.

“That’s easier said than done,” Kris pointed out.

There were other minor things the boffins were willing to estimate. The huge ship had a basic population of thirty to fifty billion people.

This stopped Kris in her tracks. She’d felt guilty, thinking she’d slaughtered ten to fifteen billion. This left her stunned.

Still, the professor went on. No, they had no idea how many might have survived Kris’s Hellburners. Half to two-thirds of the ship’s population might have died in either the actual explosions or the sudden opening of the ship to the void of space. It did not have a lot of internal, airtight bulkheads.

Clearly, these folks intended to be the ones doing unto others, not having someone else doing unto them.

The professor left, again reminding Kris that she needed to arrange for the landing of his boffins. Kris was left to wonder how fast a population that huge could adjust to the change humanity presented them with and what they might do to improve their prospects. Humanity had produced the Smart MetalTM frigates and put the 20-inch laser rifles into production.

What did the bastards have in reserve?

NELLY, HOW MUCH ROOM WOULD THIRTY BILLION PEOPLE TAKE UP?

DO YOU MEAN STANDING BACK-TO-BACK, KRIS?

NO, ASSUME THEY GET A SQUARE YARD PER PERSON. BACK ON WARDHAVEN, THE PUBLIC LAND SURVEY IS STILL LAID OUT IN SQUARE-MILE BLOCKS. SIXTY-FOUR SQUARE MILES TO A TOWNSHIP. HOW MANY TOWNSHIPS ARE WE TALKING ABOUT. A CONTINENT’S WORTH?

THINK THREE MILLION PEOPLE TO A SQUARE MILE, KRIS. A ONE-HUNDRED-BY-ONE-HUNDRED-MILE SQUARE WOULD HOLD THIRTY BILLION.

SO IT’S ACTUALLY SPACIOUS IN THEIR MOON-SIZE BASE.

THAT WOULD BE HARD TO SAY.

Kris thought on that for a while, then remembered she needed help on her Hellburner question. She had to call another meeting with Pipra, a mining expert, and Admiral Benson. Penny and her lieutenant stayed, though Amanda excused herself. If there was a mountain of copper to be strip-mined, she needed to check on its location and the local attitudes.

If it was down south, the ostrich types might not mind. Of course, the ore would have to be shipped north for refinement and manufacturing. Nothing came easy.

“I was wondering when we’d talk about those Hellburners I’m collecting,” the former admiral said as he quick-walked into Kris’s office.

Kris brought everyone up to speed on the ideas of burying the Hellburners deep under the surface of three moons close to the aliens’ line of approach from the jump to Alwa.

The mining boss, Berkant Fulan, a man with calluses on his hand and a quick eye for details, questioned the worth of Hellburners a million kilometers or so from the likely target.

“If we put them too close, they’ll get lased in no time flat,” Kris simply said.

“Well, I don’t see any problems. If you’d let us use one of your frigates, we could drill some good holes with their 20-inch guns.”

“But all we’d have to show for it is a fine dust,” Kris pointed out.

“And the problem with that is?” Berkant asked.

“I want gravel, rocks, pebbles, and other junk to toss into their flight path.”

“Woman, I bet you also want egg in your beer. Speaking of, I’d settle for just a beer about now.”

“I’m telling you what I need for a fight for your and my life. You can have a beer after we finish this meeting.”

“A big hole in three moons. Maybe with two or three ways out,” the miner said, starting a list. “Lots of messy stuff left over. It’s an unusual request, I must say, ma’am. You think the bastards might not trust any moon behind them. Maybe they’ll laser the whole surface?”

“I expect they will, so we may need to redig the hole before we can launch the Hellburners.”

“Which will tie up more of my equipment,” the miner grumbled.

“Do you have diggers to do this job?” the former admiral asked.

“I got them. I may need some support stuff I don’t have. A conveyer belt to get all those rocks this lovely lady wants.”

“More use for Smart Metal,” the admiral said.

“Lots and lots of uses,” Kris said with a sigh.

That meeting adjourned, but the yard boss stayed behind.

“You’re going to owe me one for taking Sampson off your hands,” he said.

“Send me the bill,” Kris said. “Just keep her too busy to cause me trouble.”

“I doubt that’s possible, but keeping her busy, that I can do.”

“You might also try to get her to take a fitness-for-duty physical. I can’t help but wonder if there’s more going on in her than she’s saying, and she said a lot.”

“You want me to order her to get one?”

Kris sighed. “Ask.”

“I’ll ask. Absent an order, I doubt she’ll listen.”

“Yeah. This why you stayed?” Kris said. Feeling suddenly tired.

“No. Actually the reason was quite different. When we finally get those four large frigates spun out of the Prosperity and Enterprise, we’re going to need to name them.”

“I suppose someone has already decided something.”

“Yes, Your Royal Highness, Viceroy of Alwa, but they are all to hell and gone on the other side of the galaxy. I figured you might have some opinions of your own.”

“What are the names?” Kris said, now feeling all the exhaustion of the day.

The yard boss handed her a short list.

She read down it. “Congress. Well, they appointed me and we’ve already got a Monarch, seems like a good idea. Royal. I guess that balances Congress, Constitution, and Constellation. Bulwark. That seems to be our job here. Ardent? Who came up with that one?”

The admiral shrugged.

Kris reached for a stylus and scratched through the last name.

In its place she wrote Hornet.

She handed the list back to the former Navy man. “There are the names for your new heavy frigates.”

He smiled. “Good fighting names. I’ll see that they are commissioned as such, hopefully before you get back from hunting for the old Hornet.”

Kris found herself finally alone. It had been an exhausting day. No doubt, a lot of people were cussing her name as they worked late cleaning up the mess they hadn’t known they had until she showed them.

“Nelly, did you ever get me an appointment with Ada?”

“Yes. You were tied up in meetings, so I held off. Is eleven o’clock too early?”

“No, it will give me time to get down and back and maybe have some meetings here to file the teeth down on the alligators up here.”

“Strange, Ada said something along the same line. ‘No doubt your princess will leave me with a whole lot of work to do. Better I find out early in the day, so I can get some of it done.’”

Kris read reports until she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore, then shambled off to her night quarters and barely made it out of her uniform before she fell in bed already half-asleep.

Is this any way for a bride to behave? she asked herself. Her husband dirtside and she too exhausted to do anything if he weren’t. Of course, if he were here, he’d have to be one deck down and in the next frame.

She fell asleep before she could contemplate any further the unfairness of it all.