Tenacious

66

“Atten’hut. Admiral on deck,” seemed to place a special emphasis on “Admiral.”

This was an Officers’ Club, and as such, honors were neither required nor expected. Still, the entire room was on its feet, even the civilians.

Kris didn’t stand them at ease, but began the long walk to the front of the room where Penny and Jack waited for her at a table below four large screens.

It might as well have been the Forward Lounge, but the Forward Lounge gussied up to be the king’s Officers’ Club. The long bar was to Kris’s right. Paintings were on the walls, and battle flags hung from the ceiling. It was exactly the way the Forward Lounge had looked to receive the king.

The only thing missing were pictures of King Raymond and his old commands.

Added were two huge mother ships painted above the screens . . . with bright red slashes through them.

Someone was keeping score.

The place was a whole lot larger. Each of the eighty-plus frigates was represented by its captain, XO, engineering officer, skipper of the Marine detachment, and science lead. Though most of the scientists were civilians, the new arrivals from Earth all sported a uniformed lieutenant commander in that slot.

For the fleet auxiliaries and merchant ships, there were a captain, second officer, and chief engineer. Some in Navy uniform, others in merchant marine colors. A few wore rough civilian clothes.

Kris was halfway to the front when the applause began. Kris had no idea where it started or why some of the Navy types concluded they could clap their hands at attention. However it began, the applause filled the room.

Maybe Kris spotted the origin of the clapping. A table close to hers held Granny Rita; Ada, the Chief of Ministries for the Alwa Colonial government; and several more humans and Alwans.

Granny Rita tossed Kris a wink as she kept on clapping.

Kris reached her own table. Jack greeted her with a grin and “Congratulations.” Kris threw him a smile and turned to face her new team.

She took them in as some of them got their first solid look at that damn Longknife who now commanded them and would determine if they lived or died.

On her dress whites, they saw not only the shoulder boards of a full admiral, but most of the highest honors their planets could bestow. No doubt they also spotted awards that no human had ever worn before.

“As you were,” Kris said in a commanding voice that carried.

The room fell silent, as if a switch had been turned off.

The officers were seated at long tables, by divisions. Still, many of them had been circulating. No doubt the newcomers wanted The Word on how things were out here. No doubt battle-hardened skippers had been passing The Word of what the new arrivals would need to do to get shipshape and up to Alwa Sector battle standards.

Some officers needed time to scurry back to their seats.

Kris waited until the last was seated.

“Welcome to Alwa. I’m glad you could come,” drew the usual soft chuckle.

“The first drink is on me. No doubt you new arrivals from Earth have had a chance to taste an Alwa Special.”

“It’s bloody undrinkable,” came from somewhere in the back of the room.

“It’s what we’ve all been drinking, and will drink until they start harvesting the new crops next month on Alwa. Alwa needs defenders, but Alwans were on the ragged edge of survival when we got here. We’re staying one step ahead of starvation, planting crops, bringing new lands under cultivation, getting reinforcements, and plowing more land.”

Kris paused to let that sink in. “It wasn’t what anyone expected, but it’s what we’ve got. We are making do.”

She addressed that to the tables with the oldest hands. They rumbled their agreement back.

“However, tonight we’re lucky. Our new allies, the Sasquans, have provided us with a delicious, or so I’m told, beer. The second drink is on the Sasquans. You may call them felines. You may call them tigers. Don’t call them kittens to their face. They have long claws.”

The feline admiral, arms spread wide, claws extended, and her interpreter stood up and received their own round of applause. It might have been shorter than Kris’s, but it sounded much more enthusiastic.

“I will begin our briefing tonight the way I always do. Old hands may think they can sleep through it. Don’t. Halfway through, it gets very new and horribly interesting.”

Kris turned to the screens as they came to life, showing the huge mother ship hovering before PatRon 10’s tiny corvettes. Then the Hellburners did their work. The view did not end there, but showed the slaughter of the battleships.

The screens quickly switched to up-front and personal shots of the two fights the Wasp had been in, first with the three, then the one. As they blinked out, the screens went dark, but quickly showed the green pips on black space as the most recent battle here in Alwa space took place in fast-forward mode. It finished with the gigantic mother ship blowing itself to dust.

“Now we begin the new stuff,” Kris said. “Somebody wake up whoever is snoring.”

The room enjoyed the joke.

“This is the planet we went out to visit. The one Commander Pasley and the Endeavor found. It has been sterilized down to the microbe level,” Kris said, as a view of the ravaged planet came up. “We wondered who did it. My computer hijacked a lander and used it to study the central weight on a temporary elevator that was used to spew all this planet’s water and air into space. It didn’t originate there.”

The scene changed. “Here is the planet it came from. Notice the battle damage,” Kris said, as rock strikes were highlighted in circles and the glass plain came in view.

“That pyramid was made of stone from the first planet you saw. And yes, it’s large enough to stand out from space.”

The view switched to walk them down the entrance hall of the pyramid and right into the Horrors.

“We think that was the king of the sterilized planet. The king and his entire family.”

There had been some scuffling, a few coughs in the room.

Now it was dead silent.

The camera took the viewers for a quick walk down horror lane.

“Here are samples from every planet they sterilized. There are four hundred twelve of them. Including this one.” The view settled on the sole figure from the planet Kris had found and surveyed during the daring Voyage of Discovery.

“In the last hundred thousand years, they plundered four hundred twelve planets. In the last two hundred, they’ve wiped out five. In one hundred thousand years, this vicious plague of space raiders has grown from one ship to at least thirty. Maybe fifty.”

Kris paused, eyeing the screen. “So far, we’ve killed two of them.”

Kris turned back to her officers. “In the Sasquan System, we found the survivors of the first mother ship we blew up. They were licking their wounds. Rebuilding themselves, no doubt, before they set out to slaughter the felines. We blew away their attack.”

She turned back to the screens as they showed the enemy adjusting their deployment from twenty-two in line ahead to three divisions of seven or eight.

“To those of you who have fought them, they are becoming more tactically flexible. They learn. We must learn faster.”

That got a rumble of agreement.

Now came the view of dead bodies floating in the blacked-out space station.

“Rather than surrender, they killed themselves. All except one group.”

The view showed the old woman and the children, knives at their throats. From offstage, Kris’s voice said, “Fire,” and sleepy darts sprouted in several small arms, legs, and in the old woman’s chest.

“We stopped them from their final act of defiance. But the woman was not grateful.”

Now the view was of the old woman, strapped to a bed. The room listened as she ranted. “All the ships will come now that the torch has been sent to them. It is you that will be buried in a flood of ships. We have more ships that you can count. Our women are most fruitful. We will destroy you.”

The room fell silent as the woman was sedated and lolled back on her pillow.

Again, Kris turned back to her officers. “What’s the old saying? You do a good job at a tough assignment, your reward is a harder one. We’ve blown away two of them. It looks like we now get all of them.”

Kris let her eyes sweep around the room. Here and there some blanched. One woman took a long pull on her Alwa Special.

Not so bad when you really need a drink, huh.

But what she saw most were eyes going hard. Lips going tight and determined. Warriors putting on their war face. These men and women had volunteered to come all the way across the galaxy to face a tough enemy. That the enemy was mad took nothing away from them, and maybe, for some, added that extra spice that humans had so often longed for.

A fight against terrible odds for all that they loved.

Kris forged her next words from hardened steel. “I swear that not one more head will be added to that horror show. What say you?”

“Yes,” was a primal roar, almost enough to bowl her over. Bowl over a damn Longknife.

“Tomorrow, at 1600 hours, the fleet will sail on its first training exercise. Those of you who are new may ask those who have fought my kind of battle what changes you will need to make to your ships between now and then. Vice Admiral Kitano, you will take the fleet out.”

Without missing a beat, Rear Admiral Kitano was on her feet. “Aye aye, Admiral. May I ask why you aren’t taking the fleet out, ma’am?”

“I’ve got a battle dirtside with the Alwa Association of Associations,” Kris said. “So I’ll have to let you have all the fun. By the way, I’ve got some shoulder boards you may want to borrow.”

Kris went on before Kitano could react. “I’m authorized to promote three vice admirals. Vice Admiral Kitano is the first. No doubt the rumor mill will tell you who the next two are well before I cut the orders in three days, after I get back from the fun and games on Alwa.”

Kris left them laughing.