Intrepid

48

A breathless minute later, Kris's team arranged themselves in front of the main screen. A deadly serious Sulwan Kann explained what they were looking at.

''Three minutes ago, the FolkFestiva starliner Dedicated Workers of Tourin came through Jump Point Alpha. It did so at twenty thousand klicks an hour.'' That drew a low whistle from those qualified to know just how suicidal that was.

''Is that a problem?'' Colonel Cortez asked.

''Only if you want to get where you're going,'' Captain Drago explained. ''Jump points orbit two, three, six planets, and the influence of all of them affect the jump point, making them seem to wander aimlessly from the perspective of any one planet. A smart captain and navigator approach a jump carefully to make sure it hasn't moved. You approach it too fast, and you may end up at some planet halfway across the galaxy. If you've got a spin on your boat, it only gets worse.''

Drago rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ''Usually liners and expensive battleships tiptoe through a jump. Strange.''

''And it's gotten stranger,'' Sulwan announced. ''She's hit the accelerator—3.26 gees.''

''No captain of a liner puts his passengers under that kind of acceleration,'' Captain Krätz said.

''So we assume that the Workers of Tourin is no longer under its captain's control,'' Colonel Cortez observed softly.

''Talk to me about the Tourin,'' Drago ordered.

Sulwan brought up the required specs.

''A million tons,'' Jack said. ''Oh God.''

''Five thousand passengers and crew.'' Penny's voice broke.

''How long before she gets here?'' Kris asked, voice cold.

''Assuming the Tourin keeps accelerating, and does not flip and start decelerating,'' Sulwan said as the screen changed to reflect her words, ''we've got seven hours, thirty-three minutes before it digs a big hole off the coast of South Continent.''

''Where my dad's hunting,'' Vicky added.

''You'll have to get him out. There's time,'' Kris said.

''No,'' Krätz cut in. ''There's a storm raging there. Think big, bad hurricane. It's got everything grounded.''

Kris frowned. ''Assassin's luck, or planned?''

Krätz shrugged. ''It is the season for those things.''

''So, seven and a half hours. How many ships can you get under way?'' Kris asked, eyeing the Greenfeld captain.

Captain Krätz shook his head. ''We told State Security that this dinky station's reactor would need a month to boil enough plasma to power up the fleet, but no. ‘One of your ship's engineers might send his reactor critical and try to kill the First Citizen.' Every ship had to go cold steel. They are all a bunch of idiots,'' Krätz roared.

With effort, he recovered his temper. ''And now it seems that some of them are traitors as well. We have been set up.''

Captain Drago cleared his throat. ''With all respect to the captain, there is one ship that can get under way.''

''Who?'' Captain Krätz demanded.

''Us,'' Captain Drago said, with a sly smile.

The Greenfeld captain frowned. Then his eyes grew wide for a moment before he growled, ''You wouldn't do that!''

''The Wasp was rigged for that procedure last overhaul,'' Drago shot back. ''We are an exploration ship. There was no way to foretell what our needs might be out beyond the Rim.''

''That's insane. Worse, it's suicidal and mass murder.''

''Not when properly done with modern power supplies.''

Kris felt like she was watching a Ping-Pong match. Only she had no idea what it was that the two men were batting back and forth. ''Would one of you mind,'' she shouted into the rapid fire of words, ''telling the rest of us what you are talking about?''

For a moment longer, the two captains stood eyeing each other. Then Captain Krätz gave a curt wave at Captain Drago.

Drago, with a confident half bow, began. ''Our four landers have antimatter cells. We can remove them and rig two of them to our auxiliary power supply generators. Those two will get the magnetic containment field up. Then we dump the other two into the main reactor and jump-start the fusion process,'' he said, proud as the calico cat that swallowed the Cheshire canary.

Kris eyed the only slightly controlled rage on the other captain's face. ''Is your Surprise rigged with such capability?''

''Hell no,'' he shot back. ''It would be a violation of Society of Humanity rules as well as Greenfeld regulations. For the last sixty years, since the old Canopus blew up herself and half the Borden station, it's been illegal. A hundred thousand died in one second.''

Kris walked away from the two captains. One offered a solution … that might be suicide and murder. The other offered no solution … and demanded that this one not be tried. Kris found herself staring at a very pale Victoria Peterwald.

''Vicky, what do you think?''

''I don't know what to think, Your Highness.''

''Talk to me, Vicky. I need to know something about what you're thinking.''

''Okay, Kris,'' the young woman said, and took a deep breath. ''I want to save my dad. Other people may hate him, but he's my dad. Maybe not the best one around, but he's all the dad I have. How do we do it?''

There it was. A plea from a younger Peterwald to save the elder. A plea made by a Peterwald to a Longknife. Capulet to Montague. Do I accept it? Kris asked herself.

Stupid question. Her head was in the same noose. Let that starship smash into South Continent, and there'd be rocks and wreckage all over the place. Not to mention certain gun-happy fellows in black uniforms oh so certain that Kris had caused it.

With a sigh, Kris winked at Vicky. Watch and learn, my friend. She whirled to face the captains.

''Captain Krätz, how long would it take one, just one of these ships hanging on to this station to get under way?''

''Twelve hours. Maybe more. This station is a piece of shoddy junk. We'd have to jump up the electric production to get the containment field of a ship up and running, then get a containment chute from the station's reactor to the ship. Most of the plasma would cool in the chute, so it would take a lot of plasma to get the reactor critical. Then you've got to grow the reaction mass, get your own electricity generators going.'' Krätz's voice trailed down into a whisper as he spoke. He finished shaking his head. ''Some son of a bitch set us up.''

''So, you are set up,'' Kris agreed. ''Somewhere about two-thirds of the way into powering up one ship, her dad gets suddenly dead. Out of curiosity, what happens next? Does your ensign get promoted to First Citizen?''

Vicky's eyes got wide with that question. The captain studied the polished toes of his shoes. ''I don't know. You know our attitude toward women.'' Now his gaze rose to take in his JO. ''But I'd fight to my dying breath to protect you.''

''I don't want your dying breath,'' Vicky snapped. ''I want to save my dad.''

The captain's shoulders slumped. ''That I cannot do. No one in the fleet can do that.''

''But someone in the Wardhaven fleet is willing to make a good solid try,'' Vicky growled low. ''A Longknife is willing to risk her neck to save a Peterwald!''

''And maybe kill us all.''

''You just told me that I'm not likely to outlive my dad for more that a couple of months. Strange, Captain, that is one thing we can agree on. Maybe someday I could tame the Palace with a whip and a gun and a gallows working overtime, but not now. Not today. We need to save my father.''

Vicky opened her arms, pleading, ''Captain, please help these people save him.''

''And if they fail?''

''None of us will be any deader than we're likely to be this time next year.''

For a long moment, Captain Krätz continued to shake his head. Then he turned to Kris. ''Your Highness, what can I do to help?''