Defender

49

“The aliens have jumped from Hot Datum 2 to a system only three jumps out,” Captain Drago reported to Kris in her day cabin. She was still in her sleep shorts and tank top.

“How’d they go from five jumps out to only three?” Kris demanded.

“It was always possible,” Nelly answered. “We covered all the jump points in a system, but some of the jumps take you farther than others, even if you stay at half a gee and no spin. This was one of the long ones, and why I said we had to cover six jumps.”

“Thank you, Nelly. Are there any more surprise double jumps that I don’t know?”

“No, Kris. There were a few jumps outside the six that went to four. To get to the closer systems, you have to be in one we’re monitoring.”

“Okay, they’ve jumped closer, faster. What do the probes show?” Kris said, moving on.

“They blasted the buoy when they came through the jump. The reporter buoy across the system immediately jumped in to let us know we had a hot datum. The receiving buoy then dropped back into the invaded system. It’s likely filling up with lots and lots of reactors.”

“How soon before they can jump to the next system?”

“Assuming the mother ship doesn’t go above one gee, we’ve got four days plus before they get here. If the baby monsters put on two gees, we’ve got less than two days.”

“So we wait and see,” Kris said, and went to shower and dress.

She took the reports that had kept her awake most of the night to breakfast with her and was asking for updates even as she ate. Pipra must have gotten even less sleep because she had them flowing back to Kris before she finished eating. The diggers were working on both Hellburner bases. Still no luck with the third. The lasers were doing well. All the Smart MetalTM from dirtside was back. Did Kris want to return it to the frigates it had been borrowed from or spin out more ships using the new lasers?

Kris thought long and hard on that question but had no one to talk it over with. Jack was dirtside, and Penny was flossing some lion’s teeth. This issue didn’t seem appropriate to Abby’s pay grade. She was pretty sure Captain Drago would vote for getting his armor back.

When she dropped by the bridge to ask him, Drago surprised her by thinking long and hard. “Yes, I’d like the armor back, but that will take yard time, and it would be nice to have more targets to confuse the aliens’ aim. Hard choice. How will you crew these new warships?”

“Good question. Bring back the Navy folks dirtside. Throw in some Alwans. See if anyone in the yard or station wants to ship out for the fight. There are merchant crews on the ships we’re likely to spin into frigates.”

Drago grinned. “You think they’ll be any more enthusiastic than they were when you shanghaied them into staying here?”

“I kind of thought with the aliens this close, they’d see the benefit of fighting.”

“Or running.”

Kris had gotten used to thinking in heroic mode. Should she offer her civilians a chance to go home, like she had the Fleet of Discovery? She shook her head. Unescorted, any transport was likely to end up boarded and dead. It could also give away too much information.

No, Kris would have to figure out a way to keep those unwilling to fight somewhere out of harm’s way, or at least not in her line of fire.

“I take it that you’d like your armor back? If I can get any effective fighting out of these jumped-up merchant hulls, I should consider it a bonus.”

“Untrained. Inexperienced. No practice either as a ship’s company or in formation. They strike me as more a hazard to navigation than as a fighting force.”

“Thanks for your advice. I’ll talk to the yard about rotating BatRon 1 and Div 10 frigates through the yard.”

“You do that and make it happen soonest. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing at attention.”

Kris really didn’t want to do what she had to do next. Shipyard artificers were a limited skill set. Still, in a few days, she’d be desperate for war fighters. Kris found Admiral Benson, ret., in his office, with his feet up on his desk, watching the analysis of the latest laser test firings. He seemed happy.

“Admiral, have I got a deal for you.”

The old Navy man put his feet down, leaned forward, and scowled. “My wife warned me when I took this job that you’d be saying that to me one day.”

“We’ve got all the Smart Metal back from dirtside. I need it pumped back into the frigates. Can you do it in the yard, or should we try to do it pierside?”

“It will go faster in the yard, what with the new reactor Mitsubishi loaned me. Bring the ships in tomorrow, and we can probably do all nine in one day.”

“Good, that brings me to my second offer. Do you want to spend the next fight here, a sitting duck, or would you like the plates of a fighting ship under your feet?”

He eyed her. “The answer is obvious, but, no doubt, the devil is in the details.”

“So true. Here’s the situation. We’ve recovered almost all the Smart Metal from the moon base. Can you believe some of it was replaced with stone?”

“The aliens are using stone for armor. What’s wrong with simple?”

“Well, we’ve got Smart Metal and reactors enough to spin out two frigates. When you add the ore carriers and mining ships, I think we could patch together another four.”

“Assuming the bastards give us time.”

“Yes. If we have the time, how many lasers can you produce?”

“I’ve got a dozen ready now and we’re doing four a day. We could go to eight if we got the materials.”

“Which are on the ore carriers we want to convert.”

“What about crews?” the retired admiral said, his face slipping into something sly and not at all ready to buy a pig in a poke.

“That is a problem. How many of your yard personnel are old Navy and don’t like being sitting ducks? How many Ostriches have you trained to fire the lasers? How many of the merchant crews will volunteer?”

“And are they any good? I’d trust a Rooster before I’d trust some merchies.”

“Down, Admiral. We’re all in this boat together, and we sink or swim together.”

“So I’ve heard. I haven’t heard it from any of them.” He paused, then said, “What do you propose to do with this bunch of untrained amateurs? I can’t picture Drago wanting them in a line with his Wasp.”

“He’s already suggested I not do that.”

“Smart man.”

“How about you commanding the auxiliary squadron?”

The old Navy man said nothing, just pushed back in his chair, gaining distance from Kris. “That’s what my wife warned me about. An offer of a fighting command in a hopeless situation. Damn you, Temptress!”

“It has been a long peace, hasn’t it?” Kris said. She knew she was talking to a highly trained and experienced leader of men who’d spent his entire career training for one thing that never happened. He had probably dreamed all his life of a fight in the worst way. And now Kris was offering him a chance to wade into a fight, but in the worst possible way.

He took a deep breath. “How long do I have to decide?”

“The longer you take, the less time you have to make it happen.”

“I hate your logic,” he said, as he tapped his wrist unit. “Send out Standard Memo A to all hands. Tell them they have two hours to volunteer or they get to wave good-bye to us warriors from the pier.”

“You already had the memo written!”

“The day after my wife warned me this would happen. She knew me better than I did myself. Smart woman. Promised she’d never speak to me again if I got myself killed.”

“I’m going to have Mitsubishi start spinning out the first two frigates, what with you up-armoring BatRon 1.”

“You tell Admiral Hiroshi that he can’t have more than one of those ships for his volunteers. And we all have to contribute crews to the other four.”

“The yard superintendent there is old Navy, too?”

“Who else do you think would volunteer for this kind of duty? The Emperor said there was a good chance of a hopeless fight with no survivors, and Hiroshi was out the gate a running. Just like me. Don’t worry, Admiral, Your Highness, Viceroy. You’ll have your ships.”

“BatRon 5,” Kris said. “In reserve, behind the line, and I’ll go easy on you old-timers when it comes to jinking.”

“You young brat. Remember, you’re getting older every day. Someday, you’ll be as old as I am if you’re smart enough to live that long.”

“No one is taking bets that I will,” Kris said as she headed for the door.

By the time she closed it, Benson was already talking to Hiroshi.

That evening, Kris got a surprise she didn’t want.