Resolute

Chapter 18

Kris had the station where they wanted it—way lower than the specs allowed. Kris could almost feel the heat as the Patton and station collided with the microatmosphere at this altitude. Low and fast, that should make them harder to see, and harder to hit. Then again, the station was a sitting duck and the duck hunters had very long-range guns.

Unless Kris could talk that hunter out of a duck dinner.

First she needed to unhitch from the station and join her other ships. ''Station. Prepare to undock us.''

''There's a problem. Didn't you notice a clang awhile ago.''

''No.''

''Well, we did. The trundles on your tie-downs are off their rollers. Unless we can move them, you can't move.''

So maybe they hadn't quite balanced the fire of the five working motors to make up for the two useless ones. ''Steve, I don't look like much of a threat to Hank with your station hanging off the snout of my ship.''

''We're working on the problem.''

''I either roll out of here or I shoot my way out.''

''Anyone ever tell you you have quite an attitude.''

''Several.''

Kris sat back in her command seat and glowered at her board. Now Lasers 7, 8, and 9, her entire stern battery, were down. This is great. Where I have lasers, there's this station in my way, and where I don't have anything, my butt is hanging out.

Commanders were supposed to remain calm. Inspire confidence. Kris gnawed the inside of her lip and tried to fake it.

''Ah, Kris, could you try reverse on your maneuvering jets. Just a gentle tap,'' Steve asked. ''Remember, you've got to push this station out of this orbit real soon.''

''And fight. Helm, you heard the man. Just a tap.'' There was a horrible noise forward and the entire ship swayed.

''Thank you. That was a bit more than we wanted,'' Steve said.

''I couldn't do any less,'' the helmsman pleaded.

''You did fine. Steve, please fix this.''

''Ma'am, they're coming out from behind the moon,'' the sensor chief said. ''It looks like the bogies will come back at Chance in a clockwise orbit to our counterclockwise one.''

''Exchange broadsides as we pass.'' Kris called up a draft plan on her board. Twenty thousand klicks out was when the 6-inch laser started to get accurate, and the pulse lasers on the Wasp and Resolute began to have any effect. Today, that range was irrelevant. With the planet limiting their line of sight in orbit, they'd be swapping lasers at point-blank range. But then she'd known she was in deep trouble when she took this job.

''Steve, I really need to be on my own way sometime today. Penny, Drago, stretch it out like we planned. I'll join later.''

''Roger,'' came back at Kris. The two ships that had flown in close formation with the station while it did its wandering, now changed orbit. With a bit of luck, they'd confuse Hank.

''We think we've released the attachments that were holding you. Try that back out again. But real careful,'' Steve said.

''Our helmsman will try.''

It didn't work. Worse, Kris felt a wind on her face that stirred ugly memories. She mashed her comm button. ''All hands. Look around your area. We may have a small hole in the hull.''

''Yes, ma'am, we do,'' came a tense, if eager young voice. ''Laser Bay 1. We're working on it. Didn't want to bother you.''

''Bother me. How big is it?''

''Not much, ma'am. Just a split seam where the ice got shoved back. We've got goo on it and are putting a solid patch on top of that. We shouldn't be losing any more air.''

Kris did not need the old seams on this tub unzipping from nap to chaps. ''Keep on it. Are you folks in suits?''

''No, ma'am.''

''Get in them.'' Kris paused, then switched comm to the station. ''Steve, I'm holed and leaking air. I'm not in any position to try to muscle my way out. You've got to cut me loose, or I shoot my way out. You see another option?''

''There is one. Chief Gentle wants to blow the tie-downs.''

''Chief Gentle wants to blow me out!''

''Yeah, I always got a kick out of having a demolition expert with that name. Really does fit the man. You game?''

Kris glanced at sensors. Hank was about an hour out. If everyone stayed where they were, they'd have a shooting pass at each other just as he came into orbit. ''Let's try the boom.''

Then, switching back to ship. ''All hands. They're going to try to blow the tie-downs holding us. If you're forward, either get in a space suit or lay aft. I don't want to use our survival pods this early. Let's dog all airtight hatches and pray.''

''Steve, give me a ten count before you pop us.''

''I'm a minute away from doing that.'' A very long minute.

''Helm, I want you to give us another boost when he hits zero. If those tie-downs need any extra help, let's give it.''

''But what about our seam forward?''

''It's my job to worry about that. You worry about making sure we don't slam into anything hard as we get out of here.''

The helm leaned over his board, muttering something about being glad he wasn't a part of that woman's Navy. He liked worrying about what he wanted to worry about. Which reminded Kris she commanded a collection of volunteers, not sworn sailors.

Hold together, she prayed, for both ship and crew.

''Here's your count. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four.''

''Helm stand by.''

''Two. One.''

''Power!'' Kris ordered.

The hull shook and groaned. Then the Patton threw them forward as she backed away from the station.

''Damage control reports,'' Kris demanded. Her board lit up in only one place. Laser Bay 1 had popped its patch. They were working to replace it. The hole was no larger. Here and there, minor things had broken, but she noticed that now Lasers 8 and 9 were taking a charge and Lasers 1 and 6 had joined 7 off-line.

The temptation to boost for Jump Point Alpha flitted across Kris's mind, but she had a promise to keep to Ron. And Longknifes never ran and she wasn't going to start any new traditions. She angled the Patton to put it in the lead of the other ships, and made ready to receive Hank's greeting.

''We could come in high and slash the station to ribbons on our first pass,'' Commodore Peterwald said, studying the flag captain's battle board.

''That would eliminate one of our threats,'' Captain Slovo agreed. ''However, it would let those three ships maneuver up our tail and take slices out of our vulnerable engines. And your father might prefer to get this planet with a working station.''

''It won't survive long in that orbit.''

''Yes, but just as they moved it down, we can move it up.''

''So you suggest we go straight for Longknife and her junkyard collection. I like that.''

That wasn't exactly what Captain Slovo had intended. And he certainly wasn't happy to have his commander disparaging the enemy he faced. Military history was full of too many ragtag-and-bobtail forces that won against the odds. Not a few of those stories had a Longknife in them. ''If we use a slightly higher orbit, we'll be moving slower and have targets longer.''

''Make it so, Captain,'' Commodore Peterwald said, preening at the prospects of a quick, overwhelming victory.

Damage control was just getting air back into Laser Bay 1 as Kris boosted the Patton into the lead position of her tiny squadron. She wanted to ask the other ships how their guns were doing, but she suspected their communications—a hurried lash-up—were compromised. Hopefully the others were in better shape than the Patton. Kris now had four lasers down.

Worse, the initial reports from observers on the other side of Chance said that Hank's squadron was coming in low, maybe making a play for the station. Kris and Steve had bet that logic, or at least profit motive, would aim Hank at her warships, not the commercially valuable station. Kris gritted her teeth and kept her money on her bet. All it would take was a slight change in course and deceleration and the squadron would ride right down her throat. That was what Captain Slovo would do. Who's calling the shots over there.

Then the update came in from the other side of Chance and Kris smiled. ''They're coming in high, folks,'' she announced on ship net. ''Gunnery, if you're ever going to get those lasers up, now would be very appreciated.''

Jack settled into a station close to Kris as she ordered the Patton to begin defensive rotation. Ice protected the ship, but lasers burned through ice fast. So big warships spun along their long axis twenty times a minute, hoping to spin new, undamaged ice into a laser hit before it burned into the hull. Sometimes it worked.

Now, Jack converted the junior sensor station to a general overview. About the same time, Kris tapped her own board and turned it from a captain's General Overview to Gunnery Central. No one on this boat had her experience shooting other ships. She'd have to wear two hats today. Fortunately, Jack was willing to share one hat with her. Sulwan would manage decoys as well as back up the helm. Lots of double hats.

But Kris had a third hat. She tapped the comm button, brought it up on guard channel, and said, ''Hank, we've got to talk.''

''No we don't,'' Hank replied. No surprise.

''I really think we do.''

''Why? So you can mess with my head?''

That was true, but not what Kris wanted to talk about. ''I don't think us fighting is a very good idea.''

''I think this is a great idea, Longknife. I've got you.''

''And have you thought through what you've got?''

''I've got you.''

''That boy isn't much for thinking, is he?'' Jack whispered.

''Okay, Hank, let's follow that thought. Now that you have things the way you want, will you bombard the cities below? You going to enjoy killing me?''

''Don't mess with me, Kris. You've lost. They've lost. They'll have to give up or I will bombard them. And you better run or surrender.''

''That's where you need to think, Hank. I've got three ships ready to fight you. Three ships that won't run while there's a shot left in them. Below are folks that will fight you. Stand up fights when they can; snipe at you from behind trees if they have to. You've got us, but we've got you, too. You can't win.''

''I've won, damn it, Longknife. I've won. You're supposed to run away. You've lost. Why aren't you running?''

''Because, Hank, this is not a pick-up basketball game; a chess match. Folks don't just resign and walk away. Take you and me. We're on a head-on course. In a few minutes, you'll come over our horizon and we'll be shooting to kill each other. That what you came here for?''

There was a pause at that. ''No, no you can't do this to me again. You got me to walk away from that jail. I bet you think you scared me. I know I would have won. I should have done it then. This time, I'll do it. I'm going to blow you out of space, Longknife. This time I know why you did it.''

''The alien stuff.'' Kris sighed.

''Right. You're not going to hog it. Not this time.''

''Hank, nobody can hog it. The people on Chance know about it. I know about it. You know about it. Fine. We share it out for everyone.''

Hank snorted. ''Right. You expect me to believe that?''

''Why not? If you walk through the logic, it holds together better than us killing each other and our families fighting.''

''No. You won't talk me in circles this time. You sound like Slovo. If I could, I'd put both of you in the same cell.''

Which explained why Kris hadn't heard anything from the flag captain. Only seconds remained before the cruisers came over the horizon and the battle started.

''Hank, this isn't a fight, it's a suicide pact. We're fighting with hand grenades in a broom closet.''

''You're wrong, Longknife. I won't let you mess with me. It's not a suicide pact I'm signing, it's your death warrant.''

The four cruisers edged over the horizon, their sensor returns still smudged by the atmosphere that lay between.

All four Peterwald cruisers fired everything they had: 6-inch lasers, 21-inch pulse lasers, 4-inch secondaries.

In unpowered orbit, Kris had the Patton nose on to Hank's ships and in a soft drift to the right. As Hank's cruisers came over the horizon, Sulwan slammed the Patton as hard to the left and as down as the attitudinal jets would take her, while firing off a cloud of decoy chaff in the direction they'd been drifting. The folks on Chance had no rockets, but they did plenty of hunting—now shotgun shells blew ice and iron pellets to distract Hank's gunners. A maelstrom of energy from Incredible and Fury passed down the Patton's right side, hitting nothing.

Not quite, a pair of 4-inchers raked the meter-thick ice on the Patton's nose.

Nelly, do you have a track on Hank's ship?

They are coming in on a straight course. Dumb.

Fire. Forward, the Patton's five working 6-inchers reached out for Hank's flag. Three connected, boiling swirls of angry steam off the ship. Why'd two miss?

They are not staying registered. Their trunnions are old. I will attempt to adjust, Nelly said.

''Five-inch battery, engage the second ship in line.'' And Kris's secondary lasers reached out to rake the Fury. Though the difference between 6- and 5-inch lasers seemed small, the main battery hit with over double the energy of the secondary. However, the secondary could fire two or three times while the 6-inch lasers recharged. At this close range, their reach was irrelevant.

''Wasp, Resolute, engage your opposite number plus one,'' Kris ordered. The Wasp now fired at the third ship, Dominant, while the Resolute tackled Georg Kratz's Surprise. Hopefully, the captain with only daughters would not handle the thin-skinned Resolute too badly.

Although the short range of the Wasp's and Resolute's pulse lasers didn't matter today, they were intended as single-shot weapons. It usually took four or five minutes to recharge after firing. Now Penny and Drago used a trick of Nelly's to fire only one-tenth or one-quarter power shots from their pulse lasers. They could worry the Greenfeld skippers longer if they held back, recharged as they went—and waited for them to get closer.

Assuming they dodged death and were alive at close range.

First salvos exchanged, now Kris waited for the lasers to recharge. In a running gun fight, 6-inch lasers usually took ten seconds to do that, 4- or 5-inch secondaries a third as long. But Kris's ships were not under power. No fusion plasma shot from the reactor to the motors and out into space, generating electricity in the superconducting coils of the ship's magnets.

This would not only be a battle in slow motion as the ships followed their orbits, but in slow time as the capacitors struggled to charge up again. Thanks to the expanded racetrack and its trickle charge, Kris had her 6-inchers back on-line in only twenty seconds. She fired. Four hit. More ice boiled off of Hank's ship as it stayed steady in its orbit and on course.

''Sulwan, keep her on a steady course,'' Kris said through tight lips. ''Get ready to execute evasions.'' Kris watched the seconds click by. Her guess was Hank would need a full half minute to recharge.

When asked how long Hank's ships would take to reload, Nelly had given the equivalent of a computer shrug. ''Too many variables, Kris. I will need to observe him for a while.''

Kris only had her gut to go on. At thirty seconds from Hank's first salvo, Kris said, ''Up and to the right.''

''Done,'' Sulwan said, firing decoys.

''Now left.'' Kris waited, listening for Nelly's next random move. If only she knew when Hank would be recharged. ''Up,'' Kris said a second later.

And the Patton was raked by two 6-inch hits down its right side. Had Hank fired as fast as he could, or waited and outguessed Kris? No way to tell.

The 4-inch lasers picked at the Patton, boiling off a bit of ice here, some more there. Her ship rumbled and shuddered beneath Kris as reaction mass was pumped quickly to rebalance the ship. Otherwise the spin might tear the ship apart, sending ice flying off into space and leaving her ready for Hank's coup de grace.

''Sulwan, jack up the attitudinal jets. Jink faster.''

''These dinky jets weren't meant for heavy lifting.'' But the woman did. The Patton dodged and weaved in its orbit. Every few seconds, Sulwan goosed the main engines, jumping them a bit in their orbit and vacating the space that had gotten too hot. In near-0g, this was not the mad, punishing dance at 2 and 3 gs that Kris had needed to survive at Wardhaven. Kris doubted the Patton could take that. No, they stayed in their orbit and dodged just enough to throw off Hank's gunners.

But the occasional blast of plasma through the five working motors shortened the time Kris needed to reload. She fired her five available lasers as they came up again. Four raked Hank's ship. Only now did it start its own dance. No question Slovo was in the brig. Unfortunately, Hank was learning from Kris how it was done.

Behind Hank, the other ships began the same. And the Resolute was taking one, no two, hits.

''Aft gunnery, if you can target the Surprise, get a few shots off at them to take the pressure off the Resolute.'' Only two of the stern lasers were up, but when Sulwan put the Patton into a left lean, both of then took a nip at the Surprise. One hit, boiling a long slash in her ice.

''Bet that surprised them,'' a gunner chortled on net.

Now Kris's battery was again loaded. She waited for Hank to go from a zig to a zag, let Nelly do the analysis, then sent five lasers his way. Again, she hit. Hank must be trying to do his own dodge pattern. Nelly had developed the one Sulwan and the other ships were using. It wasn't perfect, not at this range, but it was better than Hank making his own calls. ''He likes going up and to his right,'' Nelly noted.

Kris's 5-inchers hammered the Fury. The young skipper on that boat was trying for the Patton, but rarely connecting.

Which looked good but didn't make Kris feel any better. She was teaching these kids their job—and their slight delay in firing their lasers told Kris something she didn't really want to know. They were recharging their pulse lasers. About the time the fleets were closest, those big hitters would be ready.

Sulwan kept the Patton's teardrop hull pointed at the Incredible. That put the meter of ice on the nose out where it took most of the hits and the engines out of harm. Kris nipped one of Hank's engines. Penny also got one of the Dominant's. It didn't matter much, since none of the ships were under boost; but now Hank angled his cruisers vulnerable engines away, pointed only his bow weapons at Kris and continued the fight.

They closed at over fifty-five thousand kilometers an hour, dodging and weaving in their orbits, firing as quickly as they could recharge. Steam boiled off the Patton to cool into crystalline ice, providing a thin cloak of cover for the ships behind her. That and the residue of decoys gave color to the lasers reaching out to slash ships. It also deflected sensors, making firing solutions less precise. But as the angle of fire approached zero, that mattered less and less.

''Sulwan, get ready to make a major dodge,'' Kris whispered, firing off a salvo that boiled Hank's ice but did no apparent damage. ''He's coming up on closest approach. And he'll have his 21-inch pulse lasers recharged.'' Kris didn't have to say what the Patton would look like if she took five, ten of them at once.

Kris would give her right arm for the four-pulse lasers the Patton was supposed to have. Someone had removed them before exiling the boat to the Rim, probably for new construction. Kris hoped they earned their pay wherever that was.

The navigator laid the Patton over and boosted; then just as quickly, flipped it, fired decoy, and boosted back. Twice Sulwan did that yo-yo. Sometimes the leg was one second long, another time two. Halfway through the third, the Patton shuddered along its length.

Kris's board lit up as the Patton shimmied and bumped. Pumps moved reaction mass to rebalance her, but not fast enough.

''Laser Bay 1 is open to space.'' That was no surprise. ''We've got a burn through there.'' The meter of ice over it, slashed and hacked, had boiled away totally. The Patton staggered in its orbit, taking hits as it became predictable. ''Sulwan.''

''I don't know if the old gal can take this, but here goes.'' The Patton's engines blasted Kris back in her seat. Kris ignored the red flashing on Jack's board and aimed for the Incredible. Four lasers answered her order. Hank's ship steamed. How much longer can I keep this up?

Flag Captain Slovo struggled to make his way back to his bridge. A man of his age and experience should have known better than to try to teach a pig to sing. All he'd done was aggravate the pig—and get himself thrown in his own brig.

In his cell, it had done him and his ship no good to shout orders for battle rotation or evasive maneuvers. The dimming of the lights told Slovo that the Incredible had fired everything it had at the start of the battle. Only a long minute later did the ship take on rotation… maybe half of what it needed to survive. And then it began to zig and zag in its orbit.

''So that Longknife girl is teaching you how this dance is done,'' Slovo muttered as his cell door opened.

''Your presence is requested on the bridge.'' Maybe Hank was ready to learn from someone other than that girl.

Against the rotation, allowing for dodges and weaving, and trying not to let the sudden bursts of power leave him with a broken leg or cracked skull, Slovo struggled forward.

''I got her. I got her.'' Hank greeted him as he half stumbled, half swam onto his bridge. The commodore's happy face turned to him. ''I've already won this battle. I didn't need you after all.''

The flag captain locked his face to blank, said ''Very good,'' and lurched for his seat. He was just strapping in when all hell broke loose.

Steve Kovar, Lieutenant, retired, more or less, did not like what he saw. On the good side, his station remained unengaged by the hostiles. The princess had ordered him not to fire unless fired upon and the commercial value of the station seemed to be working as its best defense.

The bad side was that his side was getting the crap beat out of them. He'd soon face a choice of surrendering or fighting a hopeless battle. He hadn't joined the Navy to give up without a fight, so he figured him and his crew for dead.

He went down the list of Kris's ships and didn't like the answer he got. The Patton was badly holed by that last salvo. She was still fighting, but didn't look long for the battle.

The Resolute had been dancing like mad, but it had taken hit after hit. Its smart armor had to be about gone. One or two more hits and… Only the Wasp was holding its own.

Steve measured the distance between his station and Hank's flagship. It wouldn't be more than two hundred klicks at closest approach. His station should be able to bring to bear eight boosted 6-inch lasers. ''Harriet, jack up the reactor. I'm gonna want all you can give.''

''You got it.''

Pumping energy into capacitors even as you discharged their lasers was something that had sparked a long series of letters to the Proceedings. Now would be a good time to see if it worked.

''Every gun that can bear, aim for the flag.'' He paused. ''Fire.''

''Oh my God,'' someone prayed on the bridge.

Kris didn't have time; she mashed guard channel. ''Hank, you're naked as a plucked chicken. Accept my cease-fire.''

''Never. I've got you.''

Lasers reached out, lashed the Patton as Sulwan dodged.

''Like hell,'' Kris muttered, and changed channels. ''Penny, you still charged?''

''Fully. Where do you want it?''

''Target Hank's engines and power.''

''I know just where they are.''

''Fire,'' Kris ordered and did the same with all she still had available.

The Incredible steamed, staggered drunkenly, rolled away from Kris, and then went dead in space.

Captain Slovo's board lit up on his command. Then it flashed red and went dead. Around him lights went out but not fast enough to conceal the horror. A huge hole blazed open in the far wall and the entire sensor team vanished in blinding light. Air blasted across his face.

''Life pods,'' Slovo shouted as he reached for the handle below his seat and pulled it. In a blink, the walls of a pod flashed around him. Transparent, it let him see the destruction of his ship. He saw his commodore, so sure of himself a moment ago, now fighting panic as he also pulled the handle. The survival pod expanded around him. Slovo breathed a sigh of relief.

Then tasted panic; the same that must be swallowing Henry Smythe-Peterwald the Thirteenth. Around Slovo, other pods showed lights as they pumped air, sent emergency signals.

Where Hank sat was deadly dark.

Kris mashed her commlink on guard channel. ''Hank, are you there? Hank, have you had enough? Hank, I'm offering you a cease-fire.''

Only static came back.

''This is Captain Kratz, Senior Captain present. I accept your offer of a cease-fire.''

''You can't do that,'' one of Hank's captains shot back.

''I can and I am,'' Kratz snapped. ''And I will see that the captain of any ship that violates my agreement is court-martialed. You want to be the one to tell Papa Peterwald that you didn't render every assistance to his son?'' That brought silence.

''This affair is over,'' Kratz bit out. ''Form on the flag and render all assistance possible.''

Six hours later, they'd found out how little they could do.

Kris risked the battered nose of the Patton to push High Chance into an orbit that would last several months or until someone came along to put it higher. She was just stabilizing it when three ships came through Jump Point Alpha, announced themselves to be from the Helvetica Confederacy and asked what was going on.

Captain Slovo, now commanding the Fury, advised that there had been a slight misunderstanding and requested assistance. Kris and Steve seconded the motion in the name of their respective political entities.

The new arrivals listened, took a good look around, and sent one ship back through the jump to make a private call home, then drove for Chance at 2 g's. They docked a day later, just before Slovo brought the three surviving Greenfeld ships carefully alongside, as well.

Thus, Vice Admiral Quang Tu of the Helvetica Confederacy was present with Kris and Steve, when Captain Slovo gingerly brought an unopened survival pod onto the landing of Pier 2.

''I hope that is not what I think it is,'' Kris said.

''Regretfully, it is,'' Slovo sighed. ''One, very inoperable life pod with one Henry Peterwald the Thirteenth in it.'' The Greenfeld captain waited until representatives from the other two ships arrived, then ordered one of his own mechs to open of the pod. Jack and Beni were as close as they could get, recorders and sensors out, but there were no surprises today.

Hank Peterwald's very sculptured features were very dead.

''I guess I've finally met someone with more enemies than me,'' Kris said.

''May I offer assistance?'' Admiral Tu asked.

''No,'' Slovo said. ''Regretfully, this situation has become a crime scene and Greenfeld security will handle the investigation from this point.'' Kris suspected she recognized several of the hard-faced men who stepped forward. One of them had tried to enter the station's reactor. Yep. She'd ID'd them all right.

Captain Slovo nodded to Kris. ''If you will order communications through Jump Point Barbie reopened, I will call my headquarters for orders.'' Kris quickly did.

Vice Admiral Tu, who never explained what a vice admiral was doing commanding a mere division of heavy cruisers or how he happened to wander into the Chance system, let it be known he was in no hurry to leave and might well be expecting additional forces. There were hints of battleships.

Kris took Lieutenant Kovar aside and asked if he'd mind looking after United Sentients interests while she made a quick trip to Wardhaven. Nelly discovered a reg, dating back to the Iteeche Wars, that delegated authority to Naval District Commanders to approve battlefield promotions through Commander. With a grin, Kris promoted Steve to outrank her and gleefully sent the paperwork in to see how much trouble it would cause BuPers.

She was packed when Slovo detached the remnants of Hank's squadron and began a very sedate .5 g acceleration toward Jump Point Barbie.

As Kris marched down with her team to the Resolute, Steve went with her. And chuckled as Ron and a half dozen other mayors from Chance waylaid them.

''Kris, I know we can never thank you enough for what you've done,'' Ron started, ''but we've got to at least try. We of Chance have never awarded a medal for valor, but the people who fought with you certainly deserve one.'' And so Kris was handed the very first Chance Cross of Gallantry with Silver Star. Jack and Penny both rated the Silver Star version. Beni and Abby's award had Bronze Stars in them. Kris heard that those who served beer got palm fronds on theirs. It truly was an award to unite all those who had stood up for Chance in its time of need.

''I told them,'' Steve said, grinning, ''that all your fruit salad was just tourist stuff, been there, done that, got shot at. We made sure this one had a cross and a silver star on it.'' Kris hugged Steve, then hugged Ron… and got kissed.

''Any chance you could, maybe, hang around here long enough for a guy to get to know you? Deserve an entire chapter in that book I want you to write?'' Ron asked, his mom at his elbow.

''You know I have to take The Word back to Wardhaven. And now that Hank's dead, I have to tell them why.''

Ron was still waving as the Resolute undocked.

As soon as they jumped through Alpha, now monitored by a buoy from New Bern, Abby knocked on Kris's cabin door.

''I have a report I need to file with an employer.''

''I figured you'd be around soon. It mention aliens?''

''No, I won't give that away. They don't pay me that much.''

''Does it have anything in it that might harm me?''

''Other than your reputation, I think you're safe.''

''My reputation was lost long ago. Send it,'' Kris said, then had a second thought. ''Pass a copy along to Jack. I may borrow from it if I have to write a report on this.''

''You don't want a copy?''

''No, Abby, I trust you.''

''No you don't, Kris.'' ''Yes I do,'' Kris said, frowning at the bold contradiction.

''You don't trust us any more than any Longknife trusts anyone. Here you dragged us off hunting aliens and you didn't tell us a thing about it beforehand.''

''Your steamer trunks had what I needed.''

''Yes, but will they always?''

Kris went back to studying alien issues and Abby left. After five minutes, Kris found she was going over the same item for the ninth time. You don't trust me, kept coming back.

Well, the maid was selling Kris's life. Why should she trust her? But she hadn't told Jack about the jump points, either. Or Penny. And somebody hadn't told her that Hank was wandering these spaces. Longknifes don't trust.

Kris spent much of the voyage home thinking about that.