Daring

14

Kris sat in her chair, staring off into space. Literally. The forward screen was back to the view from the external monitors. Stars flew by. The moon occasionally came into view. More often, the gas giant that had caused this struggle with cognitive dissonance made its own appearance.

It had been a long time since Kris had been tempted, really tempted, to order a drink. So far she was winning.

Still, she wouldn’t take a bet that she would be sober come midnight.

The senior NCOs aboard the Wasp made sure that none of the junior enlisted abused the privilege of the ship’s pubs. The problem was, there were only officers in the Forward Lounge at the moment, officers from four different Navies. From the looks of empties piling up on some tables, adult supervision was desperately needed.

“Jack, inform the barkeep the limit tonight is three drinks.”

“That sounds like a good idea. We’re a long way from a brewery, and it doesn’t look like we’ll be getting a new supply anytime soon.” He shoved off for the bar.

Kris wouldn’t take any bets that there weren’t several stills in her fleet. She also wouldn’t recommend that any of the captains in her Fleet of Discovery do a serious shakedown of chief’s country. Still, it was clear she needed to limit how people responded to the shock they’d all just taken to their system.

Vicky came over to Kris’s table. She cast a worried glance over her shoulder toward Admiral Krätz but said nothing.

The admiral was one of those with several empties in front of him. Kris was a bit surprised at that. Still, the man had a family. He was looking forward to grandkids. He had talked of retirement.

What kind of enemy had they just stumbled into? How large a fleet and army could they muster? Kris’s mind still boggled at trying to answer those questions.

“Is it as bad as it seems?” Vicky asked.

Kris ran a worried hand through her hair. “I don’t know. Maybe we should turn around, run back to human space, pull in the welcome mat, and hide under the bed. Who knows how long it would be before whatever it is out here stumbles across us?”

“That is one option,” Ron said. In a fashion, the three of them were seated at Kris’s table. The two that Kris was familiar with took in the scene with some equilibrium. The Army fellow was showing red alarms around his residual gill slits. Occasionally, Ted would lean over and say something to him in Iteeche.

Nelly told Kris that the Iteeche Navy officer was telling the Army officer that it was all right. Things would work out.

It didn’t seem to be working for the Army guy. It sure wasn’t working for Kris.

The urge to run away and hide under a bed was very attractive. The thirst to crawl into a bottle and forget the future had new allure.

“You damn Longknifes have murdered us all.” Like a bloody meat cleaver, that bellow cut through the noise of the room.

Kris and Vicky swung around in their seats to face Admiral Krätz. He stood at his table, swaying like a drunken bear. He swept the table with one large hand; empties flew off in the lazy arc of half a gee. Some shattered as they hit the deck. Most just landed and rolled.

The admiral pointed at Kris’s table. “You damn Peterwalds and double-damned Longknifes can’t mind your own business. What is it with you? You damn near got us wiped out with your bleeding Iteeches. Now you just had to go and find something bigger, meaner, badder.”

For a long moment, the admiral just snarled at Kris and Vicky. Then a shudder went through him. “And my girls will never hold their babies. My grand little ones will never see the light of day.”

A wracking sob escaped the admiral.

Kris rose from her seat and took two steps toward the drunk officer. With a glance, she caught the attention of the Fury’s captain.

“Captain, I think you need to take your admiral home.”

The captain reached for the arm of his commander. Admiral Krätz shook him off.

“Don’t you go giving my officers orders.”

“Then you give them,” Kris snapped. “We’ve got problems enough. You’re not going to find any answers to them in the bottoms of those glasses. Go to your ship. Sleep it off. Tomorrow, we’ll put our sober heads together.”

“Come, Admiral. Let’s go,” the captain said.

The large contingent from the Greenfeld fleet made a hole for their admiral, then followed him out the door.

“I’ve never seen him like that,” Vicky said, coming up to stand beside Kris.

“He likely has never had a night this bad,” Colonel Cortez said, joining them. “It is one thing to face battle against odds you can gauge, maneuvers you can counter. It’s something else entirely to face the unknown and know that you can’t protect those you love and hold dear.”

The colonel paused for a moment. “I’m none too sure how I feel about all this.”

“I don’t think any of us are,” Kris admitted. She caught the eye of the senior bartender. “Let’s close down for the night.”

“Last call?” someone asked hopefully.

“No, honey. Drink up. We’re rolling up the floor,” the barkeep answered.

Vicky hurried off to catch the last launch from the Wasp to the Fury. Kris turned to Ron. “Shall I take you to your quarters? I understand nothing’s changed.”

“That would be very gracious of you,” Ron said. “Though I should point out, I well remember the path from your Forward Lounge to my quarters. I suspect I could even find my way without all your scientists marking the path, waiting in line to pose questions for me.”

“Was it that bad?” Kris asked.

The press at the door was almost gridlock. Kris and her team waited for others to file out. Since the admirals hadn’t demanded that sailors of different fleets make a hole for them, Kris didn’t think she should.

Penny nudged Kris. “We’re not moving all that much. Any chance we could grab a chair, sit down, and talk a bit about what all this means?”

Kris shook her head. “Penny, this is just too much for me. I’ve got to sleep on it. Tomorrow will be soon enough.”

Penny didn’t seem happy with Kris’s decision, but she said nothing more.

Ron was interested in how Kris had spent her time since he left. It took her mind off the present to describe the fun of chasing pirates and claiming new territory . . . for the hostile Peterwald Empire.

He considered that funny . . . and time better spent than his own. He’d been locked down in the Imperial Palace. He was required to be available on five-minute notice to meet with several very important committees. He was required to wait upon them . . . but in the end they never called him for a personal report.

He brought his hands together and moved his four thumbs in circles around each other. “Do you have a saying like that?”

“Twiddling your thumbs?” Kris said with a laugh, as she and her team finally passed through the doors from the Forward Lounge into the passageway that led aft.

The next moment an explosion threw Kris against Ron.

Jack crashed into her back and they all ended up in a heap on the deck.

Behind them, the swinging doors of the Forward Lounge blew out. Immediately, the airtight doors slammed shut and clanged as they locked down.

“Hull Breach,” the public-address system announced. “Hull Breach in the Forward Lounge.”