Intrepid

15

Captain Thorpe was livid. He had all his lasers charged and nothing to shoot full of holes. ''Where's my target?''

''There is no ship anywhere in the space between the moon and our orbit. Nothing to target, sir,'' Weapons reported.

''There's got to be a target,'' Thorpe snapped, searching the forward screen. ''There has to be.''

''Sir,'' Weapons asked, ''could she have done another burn and ducked behind the moon again. Or done more than three gees on her approach to orbit?''

''Not possible, or at least not probable,'' Thorpe said, forcing his mind to adjust to what his eyes told him.

''Sir, Sensors here. I've got a rapidly dissipating trail of reaction mass.''

''Show me,'' Thorpe growled.

A glowing yellow cloud blazed a trail between the moon and Pandemonium on the forward screen.

''Can you estimate the gee forces that reaction mass would generate on a ship the size we saw on approach?''

''Ah, considering that it got them from the moon to orbit without us getting a single peek at them, I'd say they must have pulled at least 3.5 gees. Sir, I'd also say that the ship is heavier than us by a factor of fifty percent.''

Someone on the bridge began a soft whistle. Thorpe whipped his head around, and the noise died. ''They said they're carrying containers for this lost corner of the boondocks. So they're heavy. Doesn't say a thing about their combat load. We've got two eighteen-inch lasers and a second pair of 4.7-inch long guns. They are an exploration ship. She should have run when she could.''

Heads nodded with him.

''Sensors, get me a full updated scan of this planet. Next orbit, one Princess Kris Longknife will be stumbling around down there, looking for a hairdresser. Let's make sure she gets dressed up right.''

''Yes, sir.''

* * *

Kris ached in every muscle of her body. ''What a great way to start a fight,'' she softly muttered to herself as she glided in full battle rattle for the drop bay of the Wasp.

Doc, the Wasp's erstwhile medical support, had set up shop just outside the drop bay's hatch. As Kris approached him, he handed her two small pills.

''What are these?'' Kris demanded. She'd quit taking anything handed her at twelve … and was much the better for it.

''Just a pain reliever. And don't tell me Sulwan's joyride didn't leave you aching in every bone you got, Princess.''

Kris took the pills with a swig from her suit's water while she surveyed the organized confusion of her drop bay. In addition to the four LACs, Jack had managed to cram in both of the lighters Drago had leased. Those two held empty transport containers, which Marines were stoically climbing aboard and improvising ways to strap themselves down to.

''You going to fly the lead LAC?'' Jack asked her.

''For the northern platoon,'' Kris said smoothly, not giving Jack any opening to debate again the proper place for a princess in the coming battle.

''I've assigned Gunny to you as well as First Lieutenant Troy. Now, before you change your mind about leading a platoon, please excuse me while I look over my half of this lash-up.'' Without waiting for a reply, Jack threw her what might pass for a salute and left. Since space armor wasn't really intended for parade and ceremonies, Kris attributed his display to the equipment and not insubordination.

Not that Kris had any right to complain about a little insubordination here and there.

She turned to Gunny. ''Let's land the landing force.''

''Yes, ma'am,'' he said, but there was no salute with the words. He reached for Kris's suit and began tightening this, moving that to where it belonged. ''Don't you hate the way high gees make a mess of your web gear,'' he muttered.

Kris stood patiently through his inspection and corrections. Officially she should be doing the same to him. She did do the proper eyeball check, but, as she expected, there wasn't a single item of equipment out of place on Gunny's battle rattle.

It wouldn't dare.

Shipshape to Gunny's high standards, Kris turned to the four-Marine squad that would ride down with her while Gunny turned his mothering eye on the LT. Maybe Gunny had been down them before. Or maybe Sergeant Bruce had acquired Gunny's eagle eye for anything out of place. Kris's inspection yielded nothing.

''Abby know you're dropping with me?'' Kris asked the sergeant as she finished up her inspection.

''Now, why would I be worried about what an Army LT, and an intel weenie at that, wanted?'' he said. But he said it with a smile.

Lately, the two had spent more than their usual workout time together. Make that three; Cara was usually underfoot. Was this Marine trying on the role of dad in a ready-made family?

Kris found a word of personal concern on her lips. She swallowed it and settled for, ''Sergeant, board the troops.'' Which the Marines did, smartly and by the numbers.

Sergeant Bruce checked his team, then took the last seat. Kris did a double check before taking the pilot's slot on what the Marines optimistically called a Light Assault Craft. Kris thought a racing skiff was the least vehicle for going from orbit through the fire of reentry and landing on a planet.

Then she'd been introduced to a LAC.

The landing craft was the very epitome of ''just enough.'' Just enough wing to slow it down and fly it to the ground. Just enough controls to get it somewhat close to where you wanted it. Nothing else. The canopy over the crew made paper look thick. It was only there to confuse radar's searching eye. Oxygen, cooling, water … came from the space suits Marines wore.

But Kris had yet to meet a Marine who complained about the accommodations. When Sulwan released the LAC to space, the Marines behind Kris greeted it with a confident ''Ooo-Rah.''

Kris could only smile. They'd been fully briefed, even if it had been painfully brief. The mission was a search for a needle in a haystack. A needle that didn't want to be found. Oh, and there was a gunboat in orbit ready to blast them from space if it could spot the Marines. And an unknown-size force of trigger-pullers ready to collect anything the gunboat left alive.

The troops had taken their brief with a shrug. One wag seemed to sum it up. ''Sure beats hanging around the boat with nothing to do but hit the chow line.''

It was good to be back with line beasts, Kris thought.