Resolute

Chapter 15

''How's it going down there?'' Kris asked at twenty-three-hundred hours next evening. She'd stayed home to mind the station. No more dancing for Kris until Hank gave up and went home.

''Pretty good,'' Ron replied. ''They've been swilling beer like they're afraid we're going dry tomorrow. If I had to make a pall, I'd say we're over the hump. They're too drunk now to walk straight, much less riot.''

Noise in the background caused Ron to turn off screen. There were shouts, then whistles, like the ones they'd issued to the armbands… and young women… that afternoon.

''Kris, I have to go. I don't know what this is. I hope it's less exciting than it sounds.'' Why did Kris think not?

She went back over what she did know from the video of the liberty launches arriving. There were five extra boats… say seven hundred and fifty sailors tonight, rather than last night's five hundred. There were also no sailors in gray whites.

''No agent provocateurs,'' Kris muttered.

''Or they're on to us being on to spider silk and dropped it,'' Jack said, fingering the neck of his own armored underwear. ''Did you notice what else was missing? No Marines. Ungood, my Princess, when they hold the trigger pullers on a short leash.''

Kris immediately did a full review of her station. With more on the ground, there were fewer being entertained up here. There were also no walkers, no one wandering outside the area dedicated to the sailors' amusement. Did that mean all the agent provocateurs were dirtside… or just holding up in the ships for a sudden sally? Kris ate supper in the Command Post. Chief Beni excused himself at quitting time for another trip down with his drinking buddies from the Resolute.

Kris studied the monitors. She'd had teams from the Patton add new cameras. Now she could look right onto the quarterdecks of Hank's ships. She eyed all six at once. All she saw were empty decks, JOODs and a few runners.

''What's happening dirtside?'' Chief Odacheke asked. ''Shouldn't we turn on the news?''

''No,'' Kris snapped. ''Ron has his teams working and doesn't need us to juggle his elbow. We've got our job. Penny, I sure could use help eyeballing these cameras.''

''I understand several of the folks working on the Patton declared a sleepover.''

''Sleepover!'' Kris said, wondering what Grampa Trouble would think of kids holding a pajama party on his old cruiser.

''Well, they want the Museum to do overnight stays for kids. They're testing it out. Anyway, let me make a call and see if I can get, oh, a dozen folks to monitor the cameras in here.''

''Good, quiet camera monitors,'' Kris pointed out.

Fifteen minutes had gone by since Ron ran to look into trouble the sailors should have been too drunk to cause, when a half dozen older teenagers in green shipsuits and an equal number of old folks in blue marched onto the bridge. Penny put three kids and three oldsters at six monitors. ''Each of these are checking a Greenfeld ship. If you see anything different, holler.'' She then took the other six and sat them at a row of stations covering the rest of the station. ''We want to know if any sailor, or, this time of night, anyone starts hanging around an elevator, stairwell. Anything!''

The new recruits went to work as silently as Kris wanted. Kris, Penny, and Chief Odacheke quit watching monitors and started monitoring the watchers. Jack stayed at his station. He had control of the whizbangs and the guns. If things got lethal, he would make the call and do the lethal.

For a long half hour, nothing happened. No one left the ships. The quarterdecks stayed empty except for a few sailors returning early from station liberty. At the restaurants, theater, game center, sailors ate, drank, and were entertained, apparently unaware of what was going on dirtside.

At eleven thirty, Chief Ramirez arrived to relieve Odacheke. ''How are things in Last Chance?'' Kris asked.

''Things were fine when I left home an hour ago. Something go wrong while I was cooped up in the shuttle?''

Kris told her what they knew. The old chief whistled.

One of the teenagers raised a hand. ''Ma'am, I'm from Last Chance. I live a few blocks from the university. Before I came up here, they reported a fire around the college, but I didn't know where? Could you see if there's anything more to find out?''

''We'll check,'' Kris said. ''Everyone stay focused on the station.'' Ramirez sat down at a work station and quickly switched it to news. She studied its feed, hitched into Pinkerton's aerial view, rationalized it to a map, and said, ''Son, what's your address?''

He gave it quickly, she typed it in. ''The fire is on the other side of the campus, five blocks from your street.''

''Thank you, ma'am. I hope nobody I know is in the mess.''

''That's what we're all hoping,'' the chief said gently.

Chief Odacheke quickly filled in Chief Ramirez on the station's condition and hurried for the shuttle to find out more about things below them. Penny stopped her circling for a moment next to Kris. ''Think you ought to call Ron?''

''If I had a mess on my hands do you think I'd want a call from out in left field? No, we have our set of problems. He'll handle his. The smaller we make ours, the better for Ron.''

They paced around the monitoring stations. At a quarter of midnight, the restaurants started to close, the last movie let out and the gaming hall quit making change. ''Think we ought to increase security around the shops?'' Jack asked.

''Pull some of the guards that are backing up a couple of the latched doors. Assign them to walking the shop beat,'' Kris agreed. They weren't trained, but they'd look good.

At midnight the shops closed with no more than the usual lip from their last customers. The sailors walked or swayed their way back to their ships. Kris eyed the changing monitors on four stations, when Penny came up beside her.

''I almost feel guilty,'' she said. ''They've got fire and riots on the ground, and it's as peaceful as a church up here.''

Kris shook her head. ''No telling why things happen the way they do. And it could change here at the drop of a hat. Chief, do we have any shuttles headed our way?''

''No, and the first ones should have lifted off by now.''

''Nelly, is Ron's phone busy?''

''Yes, Kris.''

''Monitor it. Tell him when he's off that I'd like to talk to him when it is convenient.'' Kris kept circling. Monitoring. Waiting for Hank to make a move.

A long two minutes later, Nelly said, ''Ron is off his line. I've given him your message. He's got another call.''

Kris waited a tense five minutes before she heard. ''How are things up there?'' from Ron.

''Boring. Totally dead. I mean quiet. I notice there are no shuttles inbound. What do I tell Hank if he calls?''

''You can tell that son of a bitch that he can have his sailors back—some of them—as soon as I can sort out the ones that will be seeing a Commissioner in the morning from those that were merely obnoxious and disgusting.''

Kris said nothing for a long moment. ''Feel better now?''

''No Kris. This is not something I'm ever going to feel better about. Maybe you Longknifes consider this all in a night's work, but this is not the way we do things on Chance.''

''We've seen the fire from up here,'' Kris said.

''You didn't see the drunken sailors throwing beer bottles at the fire fighters.''

''No. Anyone hurt?''

''None of them,'' Ron bit back.

''Who was hurt?''

''Kris, two of our coeds were raped tonight.''

''Did you catch who did it?''

''No. Not in the act and not on a security camera. The women aren't sure who their attackers were, but they were sailors. Seven hundred and fifty sailors to pick from and they didn't get a good look at them.''

''Anyone killed?''

''None, so far. Fifty, sixty of our people are in the hospital, some for the night. A couple of dozen sailors are also in the emergency room. Some may stay awhile.''

Kris let that hang there for a while. ''When Hank calls, what do I tell him?''

Ron started to snap out an answer, then closed his mouth and looked off screen. His own face was soot-blackened and there was a cut over his eye. Ron had not been monitoring the situation from a comfortable distance tonight. Kris suspected she knew what he'd been through; had been there herself. It was something she would have saved him from if she could.

Finally, Ron looked back at Kris. ''You tell the commander of those cruisers docked at your station that he will not be getting his liberty party back on time. You tell him he won't be getting all of it back tonight, ah, this morning. You tell him to send down some lawyers because his sailors are going to need them.''

Kris found herself staring into a black screen; Ron had been cut off. Before Kris could blink, the screen filled with Hank's aquiline nose and perfect mouth. Unusual for him, his cheeks were reddened by a rising temper. ''Lieutenant, what's going on here? Where are my liberty launches? We sent fifteen down and the first ones are overdue to return.''

''And likely to be more overdue before you see them, Hank.''

''Commodore, Lieutenant.''

Kris weighed several comebacks and decided the situation was way to hot for silly games. ''Have you been watching the news?''

''And if I had, what would I have seen, Lieutenant?''

''Your sailors started a riot tonight. Buildings are burning. Women were raped.''

''Not by my men, Lieutenant. My sailors were told to be gentlemen during their liberty. They are ambassadors of Greenfeld,'' Hank said, quoting the usual admonishment to sailors going ashore. ''Whatever may be happening on Chance, it is clearly the work of your Longknife instigators.''

''They're welcome to use that defense in court tomorrow, but if I were you, I'd get some lawyers down there to help your sailors get their stories straight.''

''Peterwalds do not need lawyers, Lieutenant. We make our fine legal points at the tip of a bayonet.''

Kris and Hank locked eyes at that. A long minute passed. ''If that's your attitude, may I suggest that you keep your sailors confined to your ships and off my station.''

''That is not something that you can demand, Lieutenant.''

''It is, however, something that I am within my rights to request, considering the trouble on the planet below.''

''Chance has not declared martial law?''

''I don't think they have the option in their Articles.''

''No martial law, your station stays open to my ship personnel, Lieutenant Longknife.''

''Now who is arguing a fine point of the law. You have heard my request. Now I'll offer you some advice, free of charge. You are taking on more than you realize. Back off. Chance does not take well to strangers trying to bully them.'' Kris didn't add that Chance did not take well to strangers, period. ''I may have only been here a bit longer than you, but I've learned they are very definite about where they owe their allegiances. And they can be very stubborn when pushed—just my advice.''

''And when does a commodore listen to anything a lieutenant says. When have Peterwalds ever listened to the lies handed out by Longknifes. Don't try to scare me, Little Princess, you're out here alone. Nobody's going to come riding to your rescue this time. I've got this situation under my control and I'll do with it what I want You can't stop me.''

Again, the screen was blank in front of Kris.

''That kid has a serious problem with authority,'' Jack said.

''I'd hate to be a captain with my twenty in and have to tell him anything,'' Penny said.

''Kind of makes you feel sorry for Captain Slovo,'' Kris said. Then the screen lit up in front of her.

''Kris, did we finish?'' Ron asked. ''We got cut off and then I couldn't get back to you.''

''Hank managed to override your call. I've been talking to him for the last couple of minutes.''

''You give him a piece of my mind?''

''Kind of,'' Kris said, and paused to walk around the room, check the monitors. ''I'm looking to see if he has his Marines storming my station. So far, nothing but an unbelievably quiet night. Anyone, did we make a recording of my call with Hank?''

''Got it right here,'' Chief Ramirez said, and began playing it. Ron's image filled a quarter of the screen before Kris. He listened to Hank and Kris's call with a deepening scowl.

''Nice to see that you got us right the first time,'' Ron said as the call finished. ''Chief, squirt me that file if you can.''

''Doing it,'' she said.

Kris raised her hands as if to show that she wasn't touching anything… or maybe in surrender. ''You folks don't like being pushed. I'm not pushing.''

''But that guy thinks he has this situation under control.'' Ron snorted. ''I'm glad you took the call. If I'd been talked to like that, I might have forgotten myself and…'' He shivered. ''Forget that thought.''

''How are things on the ground?''

''We've got sailors headed for the port. We've got three busloads of sailors cuffed to their seats and headed for our jail.'' Ron scratched his ear. ''This will overfill it. I'll have to release everyone but our worst—wife beaters, check kiters.''

''I'd offer my brig, but I may be filling it real soon,'' Kris said. ''Jack, turn off the escalators to the docks.''

''Already done it.''

''Ron, I'm going to have to go. There's a walker I know leaving one of the ships and I think I better talk to this one.''

''Take care. Will I see you down here tomorrow?''

''Don't know. And wouldn't say on a line I suspect is open.''

''Kris, one thing, we haven't found evidence of Longknife provocateurs in this. Am I missing anything? Are they here?''

That was a shot to the jaw. Kris put all the sincerity she had into the reply she gave Ron. ''You've seen every cent I've spent on Chance. I've bought food, energy, a ship. To the best of my knowledge, I have not bought any people.''

''I think I trust you on that, Kris. Do you trust the other Longknifes not to have?''

At that question, Kris let out a dry snort. ''I'm not sure I trust any Longknife as far as I could throw them.''

Ron shook his head. ''Strange, that was my attitude toward all Longknifes until I met you.''

Ron rung off and Kris headed for the door. ''Where do you think you're going?'' Jack demanded.

''Down to talk to Captain Slovo,'' Kris said. ''You stay here. If things go to hell, I trust you on the auto guns. Anyone here you trust more than you?''

Jack eyed Penny; she did not meet his eye. ''You win this one. But so help me, if anything happens to you, I'm turning loose the 6-inch lasers to fillet those ships. No warning given.''

''I understand. We're a second away from hell and the sulfur fumes are getting awfully thick.''

Captain Slovo apparently took his time climbing the stairs out of the dock, Kris was trotting up to Pier 1 area as he started walking toward her. She saluted; he returned the honor. ''Did you have to turn off the escalator? That was a long climb.''

''You are not that old, and you're not in bad shape.''

''Compared to those babes in arms, I am.''

''You have my sincerest sympathy, trying to educate Hank.''

''Yes, there is that. Well, I am supposed to prove Peterwald personnel can indeed trespass on your command. Have I done it?''

''You know there's a five-millimeter auto cannon aimed right at your heart.''

''I hope you have a good man on the trigger.''

''First Lieutenant Jack Montoya of the Marines.''

''Good hands to have my life in.''

''My life's been there many times.''

''Someday I must read the full folder on you.''

''Why are we having this chat?'' Kris said.

''My master told me to come out here, bay like a dog, and see what happened. He didn't tell me when I could come back in. Oversight on his part, I hope.''

''I've got a ship I think you'd make a very good captain of.''

''Are you attempting sedition?''

''Hardly,'' Kris said. ''You just told me you had no place to go, and I just offered you one.''

The captain chuckled wryly. ''We would have quite a time, but I think that I should assume that I have done my duty to Greenfeld, and can now return. Though I suspect the commodore may be disappointed that you did not shoot me down on sight, thereby opening up all sorts of new options to him.''

''And without you to provide unwanted advice and wisdom.''

He did not react to Kris's last words, but started to turn. Kris held him with her eyes. ''Captain, this could get very bloody very fast now. Hank is not playing with toys, or paying for someone else to write a term paper for him.''

''Dear God, don't I know.''

Kris went on. ''There are a lot of people involved here that I like… Hank excluded. I'll do my best to see that Hank has chances to call it quits without bloodshed. To back out even if things do get bloody. But I do not intend to let him add Chance to his daddy's holdings by walking through a pool of blood.''

''I understand you very well. ‘Tis a pity he does not.''

The captain made his way slowly toward the stairs, evincing no eagerness for what he was returning to. Kris quick marched back to the Command Center.

''What was that all about?'' Jack asked as she came in.

''Any change in our status?'' Kris demanded, got head shakes, and then turned to answer Jack. ''I think the good captain was set up as a sacrificial lamb. If I'd been trigger happy about my No Go Zone, he'd be dead. As it is, watch for more walkers. How many troops do we have to keep an eye on anyone who wanders out of the ships?''

''You could use us,'' an enthusiastic teenager with pink spiked hair said from her station at a monitor.

Kris considered that option, found it about as effective as ordering a puppy to lick burglars to death, but lacked other options. Still… ''Maybe eager teens could carry the right message if we had them handing out flyers that said ‘You wander our station at your own risk. There are auto guns zeroed in on you and we are prepared to use them.' Penny, print up a couple hundred flyers. Have some of the young folks overnighting on the Patton hand them out at the ship piers.''

''How about we change your message to ‘and our Marines are prepared to use them,' '' Jack said.

''Now that's scary,'' Chief Ramirez said.

''I'm doing it, and I'll get them to the Patton in ten minutes,'' Penny said. ''Hey, anyone seen Chief Beni? Aren't he and his drinking friends usually back by now?''

''He wasn't on the eleven thirty that brought me up,'' Ramirez said. ''Might be hard to catch a cab down there tonight.''

Kris had other worries. Hopefully, the fellow would stay out of harm's way. That was all he usually wanted to do.

Liberty boats began to climb into orbit. They docked with their ships and Kris got a quick call from Captain Slovo. ''We have a bit of a problem, Your Highness. You don't want us on your station, but our liberty parties returning are a very mixed bag. Simply put, crewmen from the Incredible are now on three other ships. You mind if they trek back to their bunks?''

''Of course not, Captain,'' Kris answered in full Noblesse Oblige. ''I assume they'll do a straight line for their ship.''

''Ah, yes, Your Highness, but, there is the matter that many of them are not in the best of shape. Could you please turn on the escalators?''

''Done,'' Jack said, tapping his board. ''Just remember whose finger is on the auto guns.''

''Actually, I'd prefer not to mention the guns to them.''

''Think Hank's listening to his flag captain?'' Penny asked.

''I think Hank wants to have as many of his sailors ready and armed as possible for a bit of saber rattling tomorrow,'' Kris said. ''The way things ended up tonight, they aren't, so he sends Slovo to beg.''

''Should we be helping him?'' Jack asked.

''There will be plenty of empty bunks on those ships tonight. No, let's let Hank do his thing. We've just got to make sure he falls flat on his face when he does it.''

Kris glanced at the clock. It was well after one. Except for a brief nap, she was running on adrenaline and four hours' sleep—not a good mix for battle. She turned to Chief Ramirez, ''I'm going down for the night. Wake me at six, seven if things are quiet. Jack, Penny, you split the watch tonight.''

Jack nodded without taking his eyes off his board. Penny said, ''Yes,'' as she left to get fliers for the kids on the Patton.

''Which one of you is going to bed now?'' Kris demanded.

''I will, after I get the fliers out,'' Penny said.

''I can have a kid run the fliers down,'' the chief offered.

''I want to talk to some seniors,'' Penny said. ''This isn't just handing out paper, it's knowing when to duck if Jack opens fire.'' Jack nodded.

Kris headed for bed but, tired as she was, sleep was a long time coming. What would Hank do? What should she do?

She wanted to be where Hank was when he made his move. That was an easy call. But where would he move… the station or the planet? If he rushed the station, he'd control the space above Chance… and access to the jump points that lead to all those alien worlds. Let's not forget that, Short Fork, she could almost hear Tommy saying. Oh God, she missed him, his easy smile, his way of cutting through her presumptions.

Kris slammed that door shut. Tom was gone.

Hank was here. Now. What was he going to try tomorrow?

Clearly he wanted a riot on the ground. How many Peterwald takeovers started with a barroom brawl—a local disagreement that got out of hand and ended with troops marching in and knocking heads. Everything pointed to Hank leading his troops down to Last Chance, gunning down a few ''terrorists and hostage takers,'' and setting up a pliant government.

Kris snorted. Chance didn't have a planetary government to start with. Things would not go as easy as Hank figured when he declared Last Chance the seat of government for the whole planet… and under his thumb. But by then, the fight would be on and Hank would have a plea for help from the Chance ''government'' and matters would go their usual, bloody way. Grampa Ray was right; Peterwald preferred not to get his planets covered with rubble. But a small planet like Chance wasn't an economic powerhouse. Peterwald wouldn't mind laying it waste to ''save'' it.

Her best move was to take all her spare weapons, drop down to Last Chance, and keep Ron from becoming suddenly dead.

And if Hank attacked her station while she was gone?

That is the problem, now, isn't it.

Kris rolled over, hunted for sleep on her other side. What were the chances that Hank could take her station if he tried? The station had the guns. A charge across all that open space on Deck 1 would be bloody and unsuccessful.

So punch a hole in the deck—let out all the air.

Hank had to know that would fail. All the critical areas had their own airtight compartments. His Marines would still be shot down as they covered the distance from their ships to just about anyplace… and Kris would let the 6-inchers hack and slash the ships at the same time. Taking down a space station looked easy on the vids. It didn't work all that well in practice. Hopefully, Captain Slovo had educated Hank on that.

Kris shook her head against her pillow. Hank, learn something? That did not sound like a good bet.

If it turns into a fight, where's the best place for me?

As Commander, Naval District 41, there was no question, her place was on her station. That answer took no brains.

Okay, Longknife, where's the best place for you?

Where did she belong? Where would Grampa Trouble or King Ray want her. No, where would their junior-officer selves be? Kris smiled. That was also a no-brainer.

She belonged down on Chance, keeping Hank from rape, pillage, and burning. Maybe there, she could keep the war from starting. And so long as she was down there, Hank would be in a very difficult position. He couldn't start bombing and wildly lasering the people from space.

Besides, I've always wanted to run a guerrilla campaign. On that happy thought, Kris rolled over and went to sleep.

Ramirez's wake-up call didn't come until seven hundred hours. ''Steve's on his way up. The shuttle's ahead of schedule. He'll be here in fifteen minutes. Thought you'd like to know.''

Kris was showered, in undress whites with ribbons, and just entering the Command Center when Steve arrived. He was clean shaven, hair cut, and in undress whites. ''Figured today might be a good one to look Navy,'' he said, saluting Kris.

She returned his honor and turned to Chief Ramirez, ''What's our situation?''

''Not bad, folks. The dregs of that liberty party were a sorry-looking bunch. We had a few walkers come out around six, but they just looked around, smelled the air, and ducked back in. They did get leafleted by the kids.''

''Pull them in,'' Kris ordered. ''If Hank breaches our hull, I want them safe. Get everyone behind airtight bulkheads. Penny, batten down our ships. Have we checked the fire curtains lately?'' The station could be divided quickly by curtains that prevented the spread of fire and the loss of air pressure.

''I tested them last week,'' Ramirez said. ''No problems.''

''One more thing, we provide waste treatment to the ships. I noticed there are holding tanks in the pier areas. Start storing sewage there. Don't let anything from Hank's ships get to our central treatment plant.''

Steve frowned. ''I respect the twisted mind that came up with that defense, but I really have to wonder what kind of people would think of attacking a station that way.''

Penny swallowed a smile. Jack shook his head ruefully. Kris said, ''I'll explain later. Are the lasers powered up?''

''Their capacitors are full,'' Ramirez said.

''They can be controlled from here,'' Steve Kovar, Lieutenant, retired, said. ''You could get two or three shots off before they need local attention.'' He grew a big, cat-dining-on-canary grin. ''And when we resited them onto the end of the piers, we made sure they could fire at the stem of ships berthed there.''

''Very good. Jack, target the stern engines of Hank's ships. Fix it so if you lean on the wrong chunk of your board, Hank's six ships lose a goodly portion of their speed and maneuverability.''

Kris thought her grin was big, but Jack's was even wider. ''Done, Your Bloodthirsty Highnessness. Grampa Trouble would be proud of your Commandership.''

''It remains to be seen if I'm all that proud of him,'' Kris grumbled at the reminder of Trouble and his… trouble. But it was time for Kris to commit to action and no time for inside-the-head arguing with her forebearers. She turned to the former Commander, Naval District 41, and saluted. ''I delegate the command and defense of this station to you. I strongly request that you don't let it fall into Peterwald hands.''

Lieutenant Kovar returned her salute. ''He gets it over my dead body, Commander.''

''Let's hope it doesn't come to that, but if it does, you have the right attitude. As of now, you have weapons release for all armament. All of them: lasers, booby traps, auto guns, personal weapons. If you want to use them, they're yours.''

The retired lieutenant took the orders with a very bland face. Twenty years of service and it never came to this. Now, in retirement, the hot potato was dropped into his hands.

Jack coughed. ''And where does that leave the rest of us?''

''Penny, you stay with the lieutenant. The first shots fired by us should be by a serving Wardhaven officer. That'll assure the fine points of law are observed.''

Penny slipped into Jack's chair, but her eyes were on Kris. ''What are my orders?''

''My preference is for Hank's forces to fire first. However, I don't expect him to do that until he has everyone exactly where he wants them.'' Kris shook her head. ''You may open fire when, in your opinion, the station is under imminent threat.''

''Should we try to make some Peterwald Marine private shoot a bit early and first?'' Kovar asked.

''Who would you sacrifice?'' Kris said. ''Our chain of command is too short to risk one of us. I will not use some old fart or kid. Penny, it's your call to make. Any problems with that?''

''I'm glad we're not sending my kids or the oldsters out to stop a bullet. No, Kris, I have no problem shooting first under these conditions.''

''Jack, you're with me,'' Kris said. ''We're heading down to Last Chance with all the personnel and crew-served weapons the Commander here will let us remove from our armory.''

''If it hasn't been issued, it's yours,'' Kovar said. He turned to an oldster on watch. ''Reina, you supervise that.''

''No problem. Give me five minutes and I'll have another work party ready to load out the armory.''

''Go, gal,'' Steve said, and the gray-haired woman hurried for the door.

''Jack, you're with her. I'll sit it out here for a bit longer, see what develops.''

''I may not be able to catch up with her,'' Jack said, but he was jogging after her before the door closed behind her.

Coming in as Jack left was a none too steady Chief Beni. Showered, shaved, and in a fresh uniform, he still looked fit for nothing more active than his own funeral. ''Sorry I'm late.''

''When'd you get in?'' Kris demanded.

''I rode the three o'clock shuttle up. It was suppose to be the two o'clock, but nothing was right last night.''

''And you missed the eleven thirty shuttle because…?'' Kris said.

The chief scratched his neck and avoided Kris's eyes. ''There were these two friendly locals buying drinks for us. ‘Saviors of the planet,' they called us. We must have drunk more last night than…'' In his present state, the chief couldn't seem to remember when that was. ''Anyway, I and the Comm Chief went looking for a cab about eleven—couldn't find one. Maybe we did go back for a few more drinks. Joe, the Chief Engineer and Doc were still putting them away when we left the second time.''

Kris didn't want the chief in her Command Center today. ''Trot down to the Resolute, put your head together with their Comm Chief, hike up their antenna and see if you pick up anything interesting about Hank's ships before the rest of us do.''

''Yeah, I can do that. And Beck has great coffee. I could really use some coffee.''

Fifteen minutes later, Hank started causing trouble.

First two, then another two walkers left Hank's flagship. Penny drew a bead on the first pair. Then the second.

''Mind if I try something?'' Chief Ramirez asked.

''I was wondering why you hadn't left,'' Steve Kovar said.

''I've been watching these turkeys amble around my station, raising my blood pressure, and maybe us having to kill them. I was wondering if there wasn't something I could do.''

''What do you have in mind?'' Kris asked.

The relief for the folks that had been watching the monitors for half the night trooped in. As the first set of kids and oldsters got up, stretched, the chief said, ''You folks good for a bit of fun?''

''Please, let me visit the head first,'' an old fellow said. ''Then I'm yours.''

''I'll need a few things out of the armory,'' Ramirez said.

''I promised most of that stuff to the princess,'' Steve said.

''She won't need dirtside what I'm gonna borrow.''

''Should I ask again what's going on?'' Kris asked.

''Just watch,'' the chief said as she led old farts and pink spiky hair toward the armory. Kris waited for a long ten minutes as the two pairs of walkers became four. At first, they stuck to the forward end of the station, roaming from one pier to the other, but they were edging toward amidships when the elevator opened and six spacesuited figures got out.

''That's what I thought,'' the old lieutenant chortled. ''We talked about some batty ideas in our time. I wondered how this would play out. Penny, you have control of those fire curtains?''

''Yes, sir.''

''As soon as those six clear the amidships shops, start closing those forward of midship.''

Kris watched as the six came forward, the chief in the lead, the other five in a loose line behind her. In armored space suits there was no way to tell the backup here was old coots and kids. Once the last of them were three meters out from the line of shops, the many segments of gray, airtight fire curtain began to slide closed all around the station. The six didn't look back.

The reaction of the walkers, all dressed for a nice day on the station, was decidedly different. A couple of them might have bolted for the nearest pier if the senior of the pair hadn't demanded they stay right where they were.

The chief and her five walked slowly toward the closest pair. The chief's suit had an external speaker; her words came through loud and clear. ''Our commander gave your boss man his marching orders. We don't want you ambling around our station. I suggest you head back before we evacuate the air you're breathing.''

''You can't do that.''

''Penny,'' Kovar said, ''could you start sucking some of the air out of that section of the station?''

''Yes,'' Penny said, hitting a button.

''There're a lot of things you think we can't do. Push us and you may discover to your sorrow just what we will do.''

The junior of the two suddenly looked around, then nudged his senior's elbow. That one sniffed the air, glancing around, then scowled. ''We aren't finished here.''

''I think we are,'' the chief said as all the walkers hurried away. As they passed to Bay 2 where half the ships were docked, Lieutenant Kovar laid a hand on Penny's shoulder.

''Now close the fire curtains between Bay 3 and Bay 2.''

Then the old lieutenant turned to face Kris. ''I think we've now arranged that they don't get to rush this station before having to shoot at our fire bay doors. That may not be much of a casus belli, but it's a clear declaration of intent. And it should take a load off this lieutenant's mind.''

''Do we pull the air out of Bay 3 once the chief is out?''

As Steve answered, ''Yes.''

Nelly said, ''Kris you have a call coming in from Commodore Peterwald.''

''Put it on a screen,'' Kris said, and as the nearest one flipped from a security collage to a very red-in-the-face man in a blue uniform she smoothed her face to Navy bland.

''What do you think you're doing, having your people intimidate my crewmen.''

''I'm sorry, Hank. The message must have gotten garbled. I'm having trouble maintaining air pressure. We think we have a slow leak somewhere in Bay 3. We're temporarily isolating it while we search.'' Around Kris, faces reflected high admiration for anyone who could come up with a whopper that big, that fast. On screen, Hank trembled in speechless rage.

Captain Slovo came on screen. ''I told the commodore that you might be having that kind of trouble. Your station is quite old and not at all well kept up.''

''Sadly, all too true,'' Kris agreed.

Hank's glare at Kris broke as he glared at his flag captain. ''We'll talk more about this when I'm done,'' Hank snapped. Kris was none too sure if the parting shot was aimed at her or at poor Slovo. Whatever they were paying him, it wasn't enough.

The screen went blank. Kris shook her head. ''Slovo told him what he was walking into and he didn't listen.''

''He's a commodore,'' Steve said. ''Why listen to a captain?''

''Maybe because Slovo is right more often than his sycophant junior captains,'' Penny offered.

''That would require Hank to learn something. I don't think he can.'' Kris went down her threat board and came up with more to worry about. ''What if he sends the Marines in light assault craft through another dock or the shuttle bay?''

''Penny will have a misfire with those damn lasers,'' Kovar said, saluting Kris smartly. ''A quick shot aimed at their motors should mess up their day. Then the chief will go out with folks who regularly work in space suits, collect their guns, and push the Marines back where they belong. Ma'am, when you've stewed as long as I have about defending this bit of space, you come up with a whole lot of ideas.'' He looked around the room, a proud father's contented smile on his face. ''You go dirtside and ruin Hank's day down there. I've got him covered up here.''

Kris ambled aft to the armory. All she saw were gray walls and a few boxes of rocket grenades. As she came in, a kid hauled those out. Their bag of tricks was empty. If they failed, it would not be because they didn't use everything they had. She joined Jack at the shuttle bay, quickly checked the tie-downs on the load of her shuttle, and preflighted it. An hour later, they were on the ground. The shuttle was towed straight to a hanger. There were trucks waiting to take the weapons into town.

Kris rode in the first truck, Jack at her elbow. The drive was long introduced her to a wide limited-access highway that circled Last Chance, and gave her a better view of how the half million people here lived. Businesses, industrial parks, suburbs were all going concerns, easily the match for the medium cities of Wardhaven. It would be a shame to see all this turned into a free-fire zone for Hank's troops.

The truck took an exit at Southside Industrial Park. It drove by a shopping center, homes, businesses, and then turned onto a winding road that took them through a grassy berm and into an area of light industry, warehouses, and finally, at its south end, a series of low buildings marked Municipal Complex.

''That's where our Safety and Peace Officers get trained,'' the driver said, pointing at several brick buildings of one and two stories. ''That over there is where we train Fire Department Volunteers and Regulars.'' This time, Kris was directed at a similar cluster of brick buildings. Across an asphalt lot was a seven-story tower, its windows marked with soot. Fighting a fire at the top of a ladder extended that far just might give even an orbital skiff racer acrophobia.

''And there is our Justice Center and jail, busting its seams at the moment.'' This time the driver pointed at a large, three-story building with only long narrow windows above the first floor. The windows were open this afternoon; Kris thought she got a whiff of the place as the truck drove into the garage of a fire-house and the doors closed behind them.

Ron was there, looking very tired. Somehow he'd managed a change of clothes and a shower. At least the smoke smudge was gone from his face. When he saw her, his eyes lit up. He was smiling as he helped her down, and if he managed a hug for an on-duty Naval officer, it was done with no clear violation of the regulations. He looked like he wanted to kiss her, but stepped back instead. ''How much did you bring us?''

''And I thought bringing you all I could spare from my armory was going to surprise you.''

''Steve said he'd try to wrangle as much loose as he could.''

Kris pouted. ''So being Mama Claus wasn't my idea.''

''It was,'' Ron assured her as he walked her back to the tailgate of the truck. ''It's just that really great military minds run in the same direction.''

''You're laying it on awful thick,'' Jack muttered.

''Keep it up, I like it,'' Kris said, enjoying the moment, but business was business. ''You have a map of this area?''

''In the office upstairs. Crew!'' Ron shouted. ''Unload this and get it moving to the other buildings. Keep it covered. The sky has eyes and we want some of this to be a surprise.'' So the mayor understood the benefit of operational security. Kris followed him upstairs while weapons, covered with sections of hosing and other fire gear, were run out one door. Another truck came in and started unloading.

Gassy and Pinky were upstairs in a small conference room; long table down the middle, empty chairs around it. A map on it showed the area. Beside the two Kris knew were four others Ron introduced as leaders of two hunting clubs, a sharpshooting rifle club and the Emergency Search and Rescue Club.

''What are you equipped with?'' Kris asked.

''Hunting rifles, competition-quality rifles, those kinds of things,'' Ron said.

''Anyone know how to handle a crew-served machine gun, a grenade launcher, an assault rifle?''

''Some of our folks have trained with Steve's crew. Few more spent time off planet in the service before they came here We're not stupid hicks, Princess,'' the shortest of the four said.

''Good. You want to show me your deployment?'' That brought only worried looks from the group.

''That's our problem,'' Ron said. ''We know there's a way to do this, but we don't have any idea what it is. Short of putting some of our folks behind every window and starting shooting when it seems right…'' He ended with a shrug.

''No one shoots until Ron says to,'' Kris said. She'd started to say ''I give the order,'' but she caught that social blunder. ''The idea is to solve this without a lot of your friends and family ending up suddenly and totally dead. You get my drift?''

''But how?'' the tallest of the four asked.

Kris slipped through the men and leaned on the table, eyeing the map. A photo had been overlaid on topo lines, along with representation of sewer, power, and other civic services.

''Ron, can you close down this town? I didn't see a lot of traffic on the road coming in, but I saw more than I wanted. I doubt Hank will march his guys in from the airport. Unless you want to have shuttles shooting up your highway to clear a space in traffic for a runway…''

''Gassy, order Black Out and Peaceful Kingdom,'' Ron said. ''For you, Kris, that means everyone has thirty minutes to get home… Please… and we really don't want people shooting at things. It also means I'm out of a job.'' Kris glanced at Ron to see if he was joking. He wasn't. ''Those orders are in our charter. But any official who invokes them has seventy-two hours to face a committee of city commissioners, explain his reasoning for what he did and why he shouldn't be booted out of office for the next four weeks while he seeks reelection. And anyone who didn't like being bossed like that runs against him.''

''Nice system you have here,'' was all Kris said.

''So, how do you say we fight this guy, now that you've taken control, Longknife,'' the shorter one said.

''She hasn't taken control, Ernie,'' Ron told the short one. ''I'm asking her, as someone who's been in a firefight or two to offer us some suggestions.''

Kris ignored the alpha dog contest and eyed the map. ''Is there a runway or major highway south of here?'' she said, waving at the empty space on the other side of the table. She missed a battle board she could zoom in and out.

''No,'' Ron said. ''Farmland, some cranberry bogs, then forest until you get to the coast.''

''So he has to land on the highway I just drove in on?''

''If he's using the liberty launches, yes.''

''And hook a left at the exit sign, then march his troops up the road through all these nice businesses and homes,'' Jack said, following the path with his finger. ''Where do we engage him?''

''We don't,'' Kris said.

''What do you mean,'' the short fellow, Ernie, snapped.

''You planning on shooting first?'' Kris asked.

''He invades my planet. I'm within my rights to shoot him.''

''Is he invading or staging a parade?'' Kris said, and told them about the ''leak'' she suddenly developed. ''I've got him isolated to the forward portion of my station. If he does anything, he'll have to blow my fire curtains. That forces him to do something close to an act of war and I can start shooting. At the moment, he can't find a way to get in a good position to take over High Chance, so I suspect he'll come down here and get his guys free from the ‘terrorists' holding them ‘hostage.' ''

''We're not…'' Ernie started, but the tall one rested a hand on his shoulder.

''If we're under siege by Peterwald's fleet, who's gonna be out there, telling our side of the story. You?'' The tall one took his hand off Ernie and offered it to Kris. ''I'm Wee Willy to most. I like your station stunt. You got another one in your hip pocket? I hear stories that Longknifes do amazing things.''

Ernie muttered something Kris ignored.

''Sometimes we pull rabbits out of our hats. Sometimes the rabbits pull our hats out of our more fundamental parts.'' That got a chuckle. Kris leaned on the map. ''He lands here.'' She fingered the road. ''He's done nothing. He marches through this suburban area. We really don't want to start something. Lot of women and kids.'' She raised an eyebrow. No one questioned her.

''Hank gets up to this berm. Nice, but not really that good a defensive line. Besides, where do we get him talking to us? No, let him in all the way to the jail's parking lot.''

Ron whistled. ''That close?''

''But that puts him in a whole lot of fire lanes,'' Jack said, walking his fingers from the buildings, the tower, the jail. ''No reason we couldn't have fire coming from the row of shops behind him. If he does walk right up, he's in one solid kill zone.''

''Why would he do that?'' Ron asked.

''If you don't get in his way, he doesn't have much of a choice but to keep marching.'' Kris's smile was all teeth.

Gassy leaned over Kris's shoulder. ''So we don't cause him any trouble until he's right where we want him.''

''You got it. You'll want to send out some men and women, armed, but with orders to let Hank's men march in. If kids wander out in the street, these folks should get them to safety. If anything looks to get in the way, get it gone.''

''You're assuming he doesn't see our preparation from orbit and come in fighting?'' Ernie said.

''Have you been too obvious?'' Kris asked.

''I don't think so,'' Ron said slowly.

''What are we likely to face?'' Kris asked. ''How many of his crew are presently guests in your jail?''

''Four hundred and ninety-six,'' Gassy said.

Kris whistled. ''A third. That must have been some party.''

Ron scowled. ''We've got three Beergartens wrecked, one burned, along with several houses and our university's admin building. And we never did get a positive ID on the rapists.''

''We'll be a long time forgetting last night,'' Gassy said.

''Let's hope you're not trying to forget this afternoon as well,'' Kris said. They bent over the map again and divided up the heavy weapons they had among the four sides of the square in front of the jail. ''Who gets the tower?'' Ernie asked.

''I'd love to have firepower on the first couple of levels of that tower,'' Kris said. ''Some very accurate snipers higher up, but the tower is likely to be the first place they take down.''

''I'll put some of my people up there,'' Ernie said. ''That will be my post.''

Kris glanced at the short fellow. Just because he didn't like Longknifes didn't mean he was a coward. Come to think of it, it took guts to go up against her family.

Five minutes later they were done. The four left to organize their force. Jack stayed to shake his head. ''What do we do if Hank doesn't follow our plan? Can we turn this bunch around?''

''Not a chance,'' Kris said. ''It takes real troops to maneuver under fire. Real leaders. If Hank isn't kind enough to follow our Plan A, we're toast. Plan B is going to be bloody.''

''You're betting everything on your knowing how Hank will act,'' Ron said. ''How well do you know this ex-boyfriend?''

''He's no ex-boyfriend of mine,'' Kris snapped. ''I spent the longest week of my life cooped up with him on his yacht trying to get him to at least consider that his dad wasn't a god, wasn't perfect, and all he'd heard about my family might not be correct.''

''Did it take?'' Ron asked, but his phone rang. He listened for a moment, then said, ''I'll be as careful as I can, Mom,'' and hung up. ''Twenty launches are headed down.''

''Your mom say anything about the light assault craft?''

''Aren't those hard to spot on radar?'' Ron said.

''You've been reading up.''

''Started as soon as Hank jumped in system.''

''Yeah, they're stealthy. I'd like to know if he's bringing the Marines or dropping them all over the place.'' Kris paused for a second, then her face lit up in a smile. ''And, if Hank has really left the ships empty, now might be a great time for Steve to waltz in and take them.''

''And who was, just a second ago, telling my best friends that we don't want to start this shoot-out,'' Ron growled.

''Oops, sometimes I forget myself.''

''Only sometimes?'' Jack said.

''Do we have any cameras along the highway?'' Kris asked.

''Some traffic monitors,'' Ron said.

''Have someone watch and tell me if they see Marines forming up,'' Kris said. ''Just now, I have another part of my puzzle to put in place for Hank.''

''And I'll be checking fire lanes,'' Jack said. ''Making sure these folks know to keep their rears covered just in case Hank does indeed have enough competent Marines to maneuver around even as he marches the swabbies up the center.''