Mutineer

CHAPTER TWENTY

''Twenty seconds to jump,'' Addison announced.

''Longknife, I want a full target display with ranges and bearings fifteen seconds out of this jump,'' Thorpe ordered.

''Yes sir,'' Kris said and checked her board. All range finders were on-line: laser, optical, gravitational, and radar.

They showed the rest of Attack Squadron Six in line ahead of the Typhoon. The flag, Hurricane, led Cyclone, Tornado, Shamal, Monsoon, Scirocco, and Chinook. Captain Thorpe was none too happy as tag-end Charlie. If the jump point moved suddenly, the Typhoon could miss it and have to make a go-around and hunt for it while the rest of the squadron was already on the other side.

''Are we on station?'' the captain asked Addison again.

''Within a kilometer, sir,'' he reported.

''Keep us right there.'' Kris watched the seconds until jump countdown…three, two, one. There was the usual disorientation in her inner ear. Her board went red as the receivers got no response to the various search signals they'd sent out only microseconds before. Kris blinked, and the board went back to green.

And reported more real targets than Kris had ever seen in any simulation.

Attack Squadron Six quickly deployed into a wedge attack formation. The Hurricane, as flag, held the middle with the second division's four corvettes echeloned out to the right, the flank closest to the Earth fleet, while three, with Typhoon at the end, swung out to the left. Kris took that in at a glance. It was the Earth Battle Fleet that made her fight to keep her mouth closed and her bladder under control.

Huge battleships, ice-armored three meters thick against lasers, were arranged in eight stately rows of sixteen, gleaming in the light of five distant suns. Without a moment of willed thought, Kris's hands went through the drill, establishing range and bearing, correlating that with her own ship's movement, seeking firing solutions. The Earth ships accelerated at a steady quarter g; they did not maneuver, did not stray from their line ahead. In ten seconds, Kris had them dialed in.

When orders came from the Hurricane, assigning the Typhoon four specific targets, it took Kris less than ten seconds to identify them, establish distance, and assign one to each of the Typhoon's four pulse lasers.

The reactor of the small fast attack corvettes didn't have the capacity to recharge lasers like the big cruisers and battleships; however, storage capacity technology had come a long way since the Iteeche War. The Typhoon stored energy enough for nanosecond-bursts from her four massive twenty-four-inch pulse lasers. Again, because of the small size of the corvette, the laser was short. This didn't allow for the near-perfect concentration of the sixteen-inch lasers on the battleships, but for the 40,000 kilometers until the energy beam diverged, the pulse laser of a corvette was as good as any battlewagon's main battery. Better, as far as Captain Thorpe was concerned.

Behind Kris, the bridge hatch opened, and the marine platoon filed in, taking stations against the rear bulkhead. In full battle kit and armor, they looked as out of place as Kris had been at Longknife Towers in shorts and a sweatshirt. Captain Thorpe nodded at Gunny, then tapped his commlink.

''All hands, this is the captain. Today, we show Earth the mettle of Rim humanity. They have held us down for centuries. Here, today, we throw that yoke off. I have been informed that as of now a state of war exists between the Rim worlds and Earth and any other planet too decadent to stand against that tyranny. You have your orders. The Typhoon is the best in the fleet. Let's show them what we can do. Captain, out.''

With a tight, proud grin, Thorpe turned to Addison. ''Close with our assigned targets.'' Now it was Kris's turn to get the full power of her captain's attention. ''Longknife, you may fire when the enemy is at twenty-five thousand klicks.''

''Yes, sir,'' came automatically from the helm and Kris.

Without thought, Kris's hands went into motions, checking targets, verifying the rate and angle of closure. The Earth ships didn't alter speed or course in reaction to the arrival of Squadron Six. They were making it easy.

Easy? Too easy!

Kris's fingers raced over her board as her mind raced as well. War! We are going to war! What changed the prime minister's mind? What could make Grampa Ray or Trouble give up on a peaceful solution to this mess? Where was a news feed when you needed it? ''Nelly, get me some news,'' she subvocaled. Hell, with all the ships here, there had to be a dozen news packets broadcasting in real time.

''All channels are jammed,'' Nelly reported.

''Jammed! Who's jamming?''

''The flag is jamming all traffic to and from the squadron.''

''Even on Wardhaven command frequencies?'' That wasn't standard procedure!

''On all,'' Nelly reported. Kris gnawed her lower lip. She was about to go to war. About to attack Earth's fleet! And for the first time in her life, she knew complete zip about what was happening. No, she knew the most important data there was. She knew her father and her grampas. Would they do this?

''Nelly, tap into the ship's message traffic, there's got to be some explanation to these orders.'' Kris had never been one to do what she was told, at least not until it was explained. This, of all things, needed explaining!

''Attempting.''

''Sir,'' the communications officer's high-pitched voice got the skipper's attention real fast. ''Someone is trying an unauthorized access to our communication logs.''

''From where?''

''Inside the ship, sir.''

''Track them down,'' Thorpe ordered. ''I want to know who it is. Gunny.''

''Nelly, stop,'' Kris snapped subvocally.

''Yes, sir,'' Gunny acknowledged, coming to attention.

''Prepare to dispatch a team to chase a saboteur. You may shoot on sight and shoot to kill,'' the captain growled.

''Sir. Corporal Li. You and two others.'' Li signaled two privates, who moved with him at the hatch, ready to respond.

''Comm,'' the captain demanded.

''Access was repelled, sir. Whoever it was dropped out immediately.''

''Let me know the second it comes back.''

''Nelly, what happened? I thought Tru gave you everything you needed to hack into anything Wardhaven has.''

''She did, ma'am,'' Nelly sounded hurt by this rebuff.

''But the Typhoon's net is being monitored by Ironclad Software. I think that is the system I told you about last night.''

''Never heard of that outfit.''

''They're a small company on Greenfeld that never tried before to increase its market share outside that area.''

Greenfeld. Peterwald's home! What was nonstandard Smythe-Peterwald software doing on a Wardhaven ship? A Wardhaven ship about to go to war!

''Range to targets?'' the captain demanded.

''Forty-five thousand klicks,'' Kris reported with the part of her that was Typhoon's offensive weapons boss. Around the Hurricane, the other ships of the squadron spread out.

Kris checked her targeting assignment. She had a column lead…that would be the squadron flagship…and the fifth, ninth, and thirteenth ships behind it. Those would be the division flags. Her shots would decapitate an entire squadron. She checked the other corvettes; each had a similar assignment. With four shots from eight ships, Fast Attack Squadron Six would render 128 battleships either wrecks or leaderless.

''Weapons. Status,'' the captain demanded.

''Four pulse lasers ready and dialed to full power,'' Kris reported automatically, her mouth almost too dry to talk. ''Capacitor fully charged. We can reload one laser immediately. Three more in seven point five minutes, sir.''

''Reload Laser One immediately. Target the last ship in our assigned column. We'll show them the Typhoon can get five battlewagons with four pulse lasers.''

''Yes, sir.'' Kris said, fingers moving to obey.

Something is wrong here! a voice yelled in her head. Those battleships aren't expecting an attack. Is my father ordering a sneak attack? Would Grampa Trouble do this? Kris couldn't answer that. Did Grampa Ray give President Urm any chance at all? No. But those ships held troopers just like him, even if they were Earth conscripts!

''Nelly, can you pick up any communications?''

''Nothing.''

Would Trouble who went up Black Mountain, Ray who fought Earth, then Urm, then the Iteeche, fight like this? Would her father? They were Longknifes. They would not give orders like these! So what do you do, kid?

Tommy says there are always options. She glanced over her shoulder; he was looking wide-eyed at her. Colonel Hancock, I'm not seeing a lot of options here. She checked the range, coming up on forty thousand klicks. Not much time to make an option. So, Kristine Anne Longknife, what do you do? We're here to keep a fleet from slagging Wardhaven. This fleet is a threat. A threat…here! Hanging around its jump point!

''Sir,'' she said softly, ''there's something wrong.''

''What?'' Captain Thorpe snapped.

Kris stood, fingers still resting lightly on her battle board. ''This situation, sir.''

''What situation?'' Puzzle only slightly marred the captain's confidence.

''This is a sneak attack, sir.''

''Of course it is. You want to give that massed firepower a shot at Wardhaven? Sit down, Ensign, you've got your orders.''

''Yes, sir. But orders from where? The prime minister doesn't have an underhanded bone in his body. I know. He's my father. If he fights you, he does it up front and in your face. And these ships, sir. They're not making any effort to threaten our fleet. Our planet.''

''Targets, forty thousand klicks,'' the helm said. Each moment put them closer to a shoot, closer to massacre.

''What's the matter, Longknife, don't have the guts for a fight? I should have known. Gunny, remove this coward from my bridge.''

You just made a big mistake, Captain. You made this personal. Kris turned to the marines; not one had moved from the bulkhead. ''Am I a coward? I jumped with you. Without me, half of you would have burned on reentry. Without me, all of you would have died on that minefield. I was the first in the door, and the first to the girl. Was that the act of a coward? Is standing here a coward's act? Captain, these orders did not come from the prime minister of Wardhaven. Where did they come from?''

''From the only people who have a right to give them, you spoiled brat,'' the captain snarled—and let his temper give her the only chance for legitimacy she could hope for.

''Those orders come from the people with the guts to take what you money-grabbing wimps have hoarded for yourselves. You have no use for duty, honor. You let power lie around, wasted. Well, some of us know how to use power. There's Earth's power, sitting fat and dumb. In one minute we're going to blast it to bits. How's that for power?'' Thorpe raised his fist. ''And if Earth comes back, we'll blast them again. We've had enough of being your bootlicking dogs, Longknife. Now we'll do what is right. Gunny, shoot that dog.''

Gunny still stood against the bulkhead. He'd watched his commander with widening eyes. Slowly, his M-6 came down. Kris found herself facing into a loaded weapon…again. Well, Emma, my Highlander friend, I guess this is where tradition brings a Longknife.

''Is that what you want to be, Gunny?'' she said, strength rising from her gut with each word. Was this what got Grampa Ray through the Presidential Guard? Was this what took Trouble and the Ladies from Hell up Black Mountain? She pointed at the captain. ''That man says you've been the bootlicking dog of the rich and lazy. You ready now to be the bootlicking dog of the power mad and crazy? Because that's where you're headed.

''You may not like my father's politics, but people like you elected him. You figure the captain here and his friends can do a better job? Remember that minefield that somehow didn't get spotted before the jump? You'd think a guy so hot to trot to set the record for fastest rescue mission would notice a thing like mines. What else will he miss? Is this what you want?'' She moved her gaze from the inactive Gunny to those around her.

''You want to follow the orders of whoever happens to be the biggest, meanest bastard around? Is that what you want for your kids and grandkids? Space ripped apart by whatever warlord can patch together enough power in the rubble? Because there's no question, men drunk on power who can't even run a good drop mission aren't going to know a thing about running a planet. Who gave the orders we're following? Communications. You have to be in on this. Who's calling the shots?''

The lieutenant at communications turned as red as one of his readouts. He nodded to the CO. ''Sir?''

''None of your damn business, Longknife. People like you have been calling the shots for so long you can't believe that others know what our worlds need better than you. You've kept us under your thumbs, paid us pennies for risking our lives while you make trillions in your sleep. This is where your time ends. Gunny, shoot that mad bitch.''

''Ma'am, I'm sorry,'' Gunny said, leveling his weapon.

''Gunny, don't move your finger,'' Corporal Li cut in, his weapon level. ''You so much as twitch, Sarge, and I'll stitch you to that wall.''

The Exec was out of his seat. As he turned on the marines, a pistol appeared in his hand. Tech Hanson was already bringing his rifle up. ''Put it down, sir, or so help me, you'll be dead before you can bring it to bear.'' The XO froze in midswing.

''Drop the weapon, sir,'' Corporal Li said. ''I mean that, XO, and you, too, Gunny.''

''You'll hang for this,'' the captain screamed.

''I'm not sure we wouldn't hang if we didn't, sir. Ma'am, I'm just a grunt, but I'd really like to know if I'm on the right side. I figure, if we've screwed up, we might be able to just put our guns down and let them do this attack thing and maybe it would turn out okay for us.''

''Comm, open standard Wardhaven frequencies,'' Kris ordered.

The captain shook his head.

''Fuck you,'' the comm lieutenant said.

''Nelly, slave comm to Tom's station. Then hack it. Fast.''

''Slaved, ma'am. Hacking in progress.''

''Tom?'' she asked, knowing once more she was assuming he'd follow her, demanding he follow her, give her the proof that would prove to the crew that they could follow her. Would he back her once more?

His hands were already flying across his board. ''I'm working on it,'' he snapped. ''Damn, the Hurricane's putting out the jamming.'' He glanced around at the bridge crew. ''Somebody sure doesn't want us getting anyone else's viewpoint.''

''Push it,'' Kris ordered. ''Narrow your beam. Limit search to the emergency command net. Tight beam it at the planet nearest jump point Delta,'' Kris guessed. She had to find the Wardhaven flag. If the Earth battle fleet hadn't moved away from its jump, she bet Wardhaven's was still somewhere around its.

Five seconds later, Tom shook his head. ''We need more energy. I can't burn through the jamming.''

''Drain the capacitor.'' She sure as blazes didn't want to use that juice on a fifth Earth ship. Tom tapped his board. Kris almost forgot how to breathe as his readouts went deep into the red. These people needed proof; she had to provide it.

''Thirty-five thousand klicks,'' Addison announced to whomever it mattered.

Then Tom got that lopsided grin again. ''Done. I'm getting something.''

''…hell do you think you're doing. AttackRon Six, answer me, Goddamn it. What in God's mercy are you doing?''

''That's my Grampa Trouble,'' Kris breathed. ''Last seen, he was working with the prime minister to find a peaceful way out of this crisis. Anyone still think we're supposed to be doing what we're doing?'' Kris said, turning to face each of the bridge crew. Faces went from pale to determined as she searched them. In the background, Grampa Trouble tried, rather emphatically and in language she'd never heard him use, to raise the commander of Attack Squadron Six.

''Shall I send to him?'' Tommy asked.

''No.'' Kris swallowed. ''They're hell and gone across the system. If this attack is going to be stopped, we've got to do it ourselves. And it has to be a surprise.''

''You can't do this,'' the captain screamed. ''Don't you see you're blowing our last chance? You're giving rich bitches like her the galaxy. You're gonna let them keep running you around. They've had us by the balls, now they want our balls.''

But no one was listening to Thorpe. Eyes were concentrated on screens, fingers tapped battle boards, the bridge crew was with Kris. ''Gunny, you with us now?'' she asked.

''Yes, ma'am. I got a grandkid coming. Be a hell of a world to give ‘em.''

''Gunny, Corporal, get these men off the bridge. We've got a battle to fight. And maybe one to stop.''

''Yes ma'am. You heard the woman,'' Corporal Li ordered.

''When you first came on board,'' Thorpe spat, ''I thought you had the makings of a fighter. Now I see you're just as full of chicken shit as the others.''

''Sir,'' Gunny growled. ''You either shut up and start moving, or, I swear to God, I'll shut you up,'' he raised his rifle butt, ''and have the XO and Comm here carry you out.''

Kris let Gunny handle Thorpe; she had other problems. ''Addison, you all right with this?'' she asked as the skipper finally fell silent and sullenly was led from the bridge.

''I guess so, ma'am. This isn't exactly the Navy my dad talked about.''

''Or mine,'' Kris agreed. On her battle board the corvettes were spreading out. Still, the Chinook was a bare three hundred klicks from the Typhoon. ''Okay, folks. Here's what we're going to do. The squadron needs a wake-up call that lets them know they've got big problems. Addison, prepare for evasive maneuvers on my orders.''

''Yes ma'am,'' the helmsman said through a hard swallow. Kris settled into her seat, wrapped her hands around her controls, and aimed a twenty-four-inch pulse laser at the stem of the Chinook. She'd worked defensive on the Typhoon long enough to know its most vulnerable spot. Hit a Fast Attack right aft of the engineering control stations, and you sliced right through the reactor. There'd be one big explosion and one hell of a wild ride, but the crew would live to write home about it.

Kris took two deep breaths, waited for her hands to get rock solid on the controls, then set the crosshairs of her targeting computer carefully on the Chinook. A glance at her four ranging systems—radar, laser, gravitational, and optical—showed four different ranges. She dialed in a good compromise, reduced her twenty-four-inch laser's power setting to half strength, and squeezed.

On screen, a thin yellow line reached out from one corvette to the next. Radar showed an explosion of gases as Kris's laser slashed into the stem of her target. The Chinook took off in a wild gyrating spurt, then fell behind the rest of the formation as it lost acceleration.

''That's got to get their attention.'' Tom chuckled.

''Yep.''

''Thorpe, what the hell happened?'' came over the flag net.

Kris hit her commlink. ''This is Ensign Longknife, now commanding Typhoon. Your attack orders are illegal. You are ordered by Commander, Wardhaven battle fleet, to break off your attack run. If you do not, I will stop you.''

''Longknife? Where's Thorpe? Oh shit. Scirocco, and Hurricane, you will attack Typhoon. Division Two, continue your attack on the Earth fleet.''

''Well, you wanted their attention,'' Tom said, raising an eyebrow in resignation to the new mess his Longknife friend had gotten them into.

''Addison, aim us at Division Two. Tom, get ready to put metal between us and the flag.'' ''Yes ma'ams'' answered her. Kris hit her commlink again. ''All hands, this is Ensign Longknife speaking. I have relieved Captain Thorpe. Our attack orders are illegal. Commander, Wardhaven fleet has ordered us to stop the attack on the Earth fleet. I have just damaged Chinook, and we are now attacking the rest of Squadron Six. Whether you were in on the attack conspiracy or stand with Wardhaven, I suggest we all stand with the Typhoon, because otherwise, we're all dead. Longknife out.''

''Stirring words,'' Tom quipped.

Kris shrugged. ''Have to do. Addison, start jinking ship, zigging and zagging like you've never done before.''

''I'll ruin your firing solution,'' Addison pointed out.

''Ruin it. I'm more interested in us dodging their fire than us hitting them.''

''Hostiles are coming around, ma'am,'' Tom reminded her. ''They should be able to bear in five seconds.'' That was another limitation of the smaller ships. Cruisers and battleships had massive turrets that gave their lasers all-around bearings. The Fast Attack's twenty-four-inch lasers were limited to thirty degrees to either side of the bow. Kris used the time before attackers could touch the Typhoon to send four half-strength pulses at the four ships of the squadron's second division. She missed all, except maybe the Shamal. That didn't matter; getting their attention was more important. What was most interesting was the behavior of the Cyclone and Tornado. Both slowed, turned out of line and away from the Earth Battle Fleet. Bet there are some interesting discussions taking place on their bridges.

Kris's stomach jumped to her throat as Addison dropped the Typhoon. ''Missed us,'' he crowed.

''Turn us bow on to the Hurricane,'' Kris ordered.

''Bow on, aye,'' he answered.

''Moving metal to bow,'' Tom reported, moving liquid metal to where it was needed. Kris tried to line up a shot at the flag, but every time she was about to squeeze off a laser, Addison jinked ship. She dialed the energy on her twenty-four-inchers down to one-quarter power and snapped off a few misses.

''Sorry if I'm lousing up your shots, ma'am,'' Addison said.

''Keep it up. If I can't hit him, he can't hit me.''

Then the two attackers shot past the Typhoon, and Addison swung the ship to bring the bow back to face fire, but there was none. Both ships were headed for the jump point, accelerating for all they were worth. ''He's running!'' Tom shouted.

''Tom, get me a tight beam to the rest of Ron Six,'' Kris shouted as she mashed her commlink. ''Typhoon to rest of AttackRon Six. Please note that the flag is hightailing it for the jump point, and consider your own options.''

''Cyclone here. Ensign Santiago acting commander. We're with you, Longknife.''

''Tornado here, JG Harlan doing the temporary honors. Where do you want us?''

''Engage Monsoon and Shamal. Keep them away from the Earth fleet. I'll chase the flag.''

But Hurricane had gone to three g's on a zigzag course. The g's quickly stripped away her vector toward the Earth fleet and got her moving toward the jump point fast, while the zigzags did not offer Kris a good shot at the Hurricane's vulnerable engines.

For reasons known only to Thorpe, he had not rigged the Typhoon for high-g acceleration, nor did Kris remember any practice at higher than 1.5 g. For now, she held deceleration there and watched developments.

A couple of Earth battlewagons got one or two guns out of train. The Shamal and Monsoon found themselves the center of attention not only of their sister ships but also of a dozen Earth fourteen-, sixteen-, and eighteen-inch lasers. Had this slow reaction been spread over eight attackers, it would have been pathetic. It still was, but now it was concentrated on only two. The Shamal and Monsoon broke off and raced for the jump point, Cyclone and Tornado right behind them.

''Guess now would be a good time to report in,'' Kris said, tapping her commlink. ''This is Ensign Longknife, commanding the Typhoon calling any fleet commander on circuit.'' Her screen split as two faces appeared, one familiar, one very familiar.

''This is General Ho, Chief of Staff, Earth forces. Do you want to tell me what I just saw?''

''This is General Ray Longknife.''

''Mr. President,'' General Ho stiffened to attention.

''No, just General today, Howie, working with General McMorrison, Wardhaven's chief of staff. General, it looked to me like you just had your bacon saved by another Longknife.''

''Kind of looks that way from here, too, Ray.''

''Now General, you can sit over there and wait for another bunch of hotheads to do something stupid, maybe this time at us, or you can come over here and do what we both know must be done.''

''Ray, you know my orders are to wait for Mac to come here.''

''And Howie, you know Mac's orders are to sit right here for you. Now, just between us old warhorses, I'm getting tired of orbiting this worthless rock. There're asteroids whizzing around all over the place. I'm thinking of suggesting to Mac that he cruise his fleet over to Paris 8.'' Kris checked her board. Paris 8 was a gas planet about halfway between Alpha jump, where the Earth fleet was, and Delta jump with the Wardhaven fleet.

''I think I've used up enough fuel going in circles,'' General Ho said, looking off screen. ''Paris 8 looks like the only planet around that isn't in an asteroid cloud. I think I'll inform Earth I intend to use that planet for a temporary fleet base.''

''Pure coincidence.'' Grampa Ray grinned.

''Pure coincidence,'' the Earth general agreed.

''Now that we have that settled, Ensign, you have any problems?'' Ray said, turning his attention to Kris.

''Just the normal ones of a mutineer, like what to do with the old captain and who on board is with me.'' She shrugged. ''Do you want more prisoners?''

Grampa Ray pursed his lips at the hot potato she'd dropped in his lap. Was the battle only halfway over, or could she let the running dogs run and order beers all around? ''Kris, as much as I hate to say it, I think the Earth fleet needs to see us in hot pursuit. Also, I want to talk to the bastards who set this up. What did they think they were doing?''

''I've got the skipper, XO, and comm officer of the Typhoon under guard. I'll see what I can do about getting you Commodore Sampson. If you'll excuse me, sir, I'm going to be busy.''

''Understood, Longknife out.''

''Longknife out,'' Kris repeated, liked the feeling—and switched gears immediately. ''Helm, accelerate us smartly to one and a half g's. Make us a course for jump point Kilo.''

''Aye aye, ma'am. One point five g's to jump point Kilo.''

Kris tapped her commlink. ''Chief Bo.''

''Yes, ma' am,'' came instantly.

''Would you mind doing a walk-around. Reassure any scared kids that they are on the right side. Let me know if there's any trouble. You know, what I'd be doing if I wasn't kind of busy doing two jobs at once.''

''Understand, Skipper. Glad to.''

Skipper. That was a title Kris hadn't expected to earn for a long time. Well, she hadn't finished earning it today.

She studied her board. At three g's, the vector symbol for the Hurricane and Scirocco had just about bled off all their motion toward the Earth fleet and would soon be making speed back toward the jump point. The Typhoon, now decelerating, was still making plenty of kilometers per second away from the jump. However, Kris didn't need to catch the flagship, only hit its engines, and as long as the flag was running, its engines were a prime target.

Kris dialed the power on her lasers down to one-tenth strength and started plunking away at Hurricane's and Scirocco's sterns as their zigs and zags offered opportunities. Her first shot was off to the left. Next was to the right. Third shot was again to the right as the flag altered course to the left. Kris tapped her commlink. ''Commodore Sampson, I can keep this up all day. Sooner or later, I'll get you. If not now, I'll get you at the jump point. It's a losing proposition.''

Two shots later, the commodore's two ships, instead of zigzagging around the course they needed for the Kilo jump point, took off on a long tack to the right that quickly took them out of reach of Kilo. ''Where they headed?'' Tom asked.

''I think they just picked another jump point, one they can outrun us to. Addison, any suggestions?''

The map of the star system appeared on the main screen. Four jump points were highlighted in red. ''They could be making for any of those. Orders, ma'am.''

Kris rubbed her eyes, trying to remember what a captain was supposed to think about at a time like this. She mashed her commlink. ''Engineering, what's our fuel state?''

''Your shooting put a dent in it, but we've still around sixty percent.''

''ComAttackRon Six is running, and the Wardhaven Chief of Staff would sure like a few words with him. Any suggestions?''

''We got a lot of green hands aboard, Skipper,'' that one word, coming from a lieutenant commander who might well have been in on the conspiracy, was good to hear. ''You may not have noticed, the way Thorpe was keeping you deep in sims, but we never drilled at greater than 1.5 g's. I would suggest, ma'am, that you give all hands a half hour at 1.5 before going to two g's. If we don't find any problems, then take us to three. I know that's slow, but we've got a lot of green spacers who've never been in a high-g operation.''

Which sounded good but could be an excuse to let Hurricane escape. But engineering and his snipes had tended to be their own clique. Hell, if he wanted to stop the pursuit, all he had to do was dump the reactor core. ''Thanks, engineering, we'll follow that. Commander Paulus, in case you haven't noticed, you're the senior officer aboard. The spare chair here on the bridge is yours.''

''If you'll excuse me, Ms. Longknife, I expect I'll be needed here if you put any kind of load on these engines. I know the yard's advertising says these liquid metal boats are supposed to switch to all configurations with no pain, but every time we shorten up the hull, my snipes and I go through the tortures of the damned to keep plasma flowing. You fought us fine, Ensign. Until you can get me a relief I trust as good as myself to keep these engines from blowing us to pieces, I'll stay here.''

Which was the first Kris had heard about engineering having problems with the liquid metal. ''How bad is it, Commander?''

''Nothing I can't handle. And if I can't, I'll holler.'' Kris was rapidly discovering a captain's job was not all skittles and beer. ''Yeoman, announce to all hands we go to two g's in thirty minutes and three g's as soon as we can.''

It took the Typhoon almost three hours to work up to 3.25 g's. Among other things, the brig had bare metal for beds. Tempting as it was to let Thorpe take his g's the hard way, Kris had the marines scare up air mattresses. By the time Kris had the Typhoon up to full acceleration, the Hurricane and Scirocco were out of laser range.

Well behind Kris, the four ships of the second division fought their own battle, two experienced captains against jumped-up JOs who were getting their first taste of command in the middle of a fight. However, the decisions made by the designers of the fast attack corvettes came home to haunt the two rebels. Running, their weapons were pointed in the wrong direction, their engines fatally open to damage. It took Santiago and Harlan a while, but time was on their side and luck was against the Monsoon and Shamal. Long before they made it to the jump, their engines were nicked and their skippers replaced by subordinates who were not at all interested in fighting for a small group of officers who hadn't told them what they were fighting for.

That left Grampa Ray plenty of prisoners to interrogate, but Kris wouldn't bet that even Thorpe knew the whole story. If Attack Squadron Six had managed to decimate the Earth battle fleet, what did it do next? Ships might sail the stars, but they had to go somewhere for food, repairs, and refit. Hurricane was running. Where?

Once the Typhoon was up to speed, Kris got all the loyal officers on a hookup. ''Engineering, how are we doing?''

''Lost power to laser three. Don't know why. With your permission, ma'am, I'd prefer not to send a repair crew nosing around it while we're on high boost. I've got my best ship maintainers down on the engines.''

''Commander, engineering is your domain. You run it your way. Is our acceleration causing you any problems?

''No ma'am, not the way you put it on slowly, but if I was the skipper of the Hurricane, I'd be a bit worried about how fast the commodore put pedal to the damn liquid metal. Me, we're under control. It's them I'd worry about.''

Which offered Kris a negotiating option. Why not make a friendly call to the commodore and suggest he review his engineering boards? That brought a chuckle to her, not a pleasant experience at 3.25 g's. ''What else do I need to know?''

''Chief Bo, here, Skipper. The mess crew have never cooked a meal under high g. I suggest cold cuts until we slow down.''

''Make it so, Chief. Any other problems?''

''None, ma'am. You got a good crew here, and we're rooting for you.'' That was good to hear.

The problem with a stern chase is that it is long and, at three and a quarter g's Kris weighed nearly four hundred pounds. Just breathing exhausted a person. Moreover, the peacetime staffing level for a fast attack corvette didn't make allowances for a battle running over normal work hours. The usual underway bridge watch was two. The engineering watch was a similar pair. At three and a quarter g's, Commander Paulus kept his entire watch and maintenance team on duty. On the bridge, there was no way Kris was leaving the attack board or relieving Tom from defenses. Addison was just as reluctant to go below. ''Who knows when they're going to turn and fight. I'm here as long as you are.''

So Kris scheduled Tom, then Addison, then herself for a two-hour doze at their stations and had the ship's officers and petty officers do the same for the entire crew, two-thirds alert at their posts, one-third resting. By the time Kris awoke from her nap, it was clear the Hurricane was headed for jump point Mike.

''It's never been used for anything,'' Nelly told Kris. ''It's an F minus if there is such a thing.''

''They've got to flip ship soon, start slowing down, or…'' Tom swallowed the rest of that thought.

''They won't be able to adjust their course to account for the jump point's wandering,'' Addison finished, ''or they'll hit that jump and end up somewhere in the next galaxy, if the points go that far.'' He turned to Kris, not easy under acceleration. ''You Longknifes know more about that than I do.''

Kris risked a snort. ''Trust me. I don't know anything about jumps. Whatever you may have heard happened to Grampa Rayon Santa Maria, it's not hereditary. Let me make this decision early and make it clear. We are not going into a jump with this energy on the boat. Any questions? Any discussion?''

''Great by me,'' Tommy said.

''Engineering, what's your condition?''

''No change, ma'am. Three lasers fully charged. Capacitor full. Reactor is holding just outside the red. Everything looks stable.'' So Kris ordered another six-hour nap rotation. As she was about to take her own, Tom frowned. ''I'm getting action on jump point Juliet. That's not too far from Mike.''

''What's it connect to?'' Kris asked.

''Lots of Rim worlds. Just not so stable as to be one you want to use on a regular basis.'' And two minutes later, jump point Juliet coughed out six blips.

''This is Wardhaven corvette Typhoon to ships that just exited Paris jump Juliet. Identify yourselves,'' Kris demanded—and waited to see if the commodore had friends coming.

''This is Society cruiser Patton, out of Wardhaven,'' drawled a female voice; Kris exhaled the breath she was holding. ''I hope the party's not over, and you folks haven't drunk all the beer. I'm leading Scout Squadron Fifty-four. It was no picnic getting these collections of junk and ice up to speed.''

''Patton, this is Ensign Longknife, acting captain of the Typhoon. AttackRon Six launched an unauthorized attack on the Earth fleet. We are in pursuit of Hurricane and Scirocco.''

''Good God, woman, I'll say you are. You're not going into a jump at that speed are you?''

''I'm not, but I'm not so sure about them. You game for trying to cut them off from jump Mike?''

''Good gravy, boys, they saved some of the fun for us. Scout Fifty-Four, follow me. General pursuit. Shoot ‘em if you got ‘em.'' And the Patton let off a long-ranging shot herself. During the Iteeche War, laser ranges had tripled.

Still, the six inchers on the Patton were only good to 60,000 kilometers. By the time the residual beam hit the Hurricane, the energy level was no worse than a warm summer day at the lake on Wardhaven. Still, the Patton's shot did reach straight and true to warm the Hurricane.

Kris had her board check the vectors. With Squadron Fifty-Four accelerating and the Hurricane locked into its course both by its hellacious speed and need to stay on a line to jump point Mike, the flag was in trouble.

Fifteen minutes later, that trouble was highlighted by a message intercept. ''General McMorrison to ComAttackRon Six. Your situation is hopeless. You will be cut off long before you can jump. If you jump, it is suicide. Cease acceleration and prepare to be boarded.''

''Yeah, right, in an hour or ten,'' Kris muttered.

''Holy Mother of God,'' Tom half prayed. ''The Hurricane's accelerating: 3.4, 3.8, a full 4 g's.''

''He's going to come apart,'' Addison shook his head. ''Ma'am, do you want me to accelerate?''

''Engineering, flag's gone to four g's. Any suggestions?''

''No ma'am. Just a fact. You order us to four g's, and I swear, I'll crawl up to the bridge and lead a mutiny personally. You want to spend the rest of this trip in the brig with Thorpe?''

''No, Commander. I just wanted your opinion. I have no intention of arguing with you.'' Kris flicked her commlink again. ''Hurricane, Scirocco, this is Longknife. Be advised, the engines on these liquid metal boats can't hold four g's. You are risking catastrophic failure. You hit the jump at this energy level, and you don't know where it will take you. Do those of you not in on this conspiracy really want guys like the commodore deciding whether you live or die?''

''Think anyone is listening?'' Tom asked.

''We'll know soon.''

A minute later Scirocco cut power. ''Hurricane, call it quits,'' Kris called. ''You don't have any future. Don't let the commodore drag you down. Somebody over there put a stop to this before the ship blows out from under you.''

No answer. Kris studied the track of the Hurricane on the screen, matched it against her refined estimate of the jump's actual location. With the Patton as a gravimetric arm, she got a much better reading than the Hurricane could. She tested for the location of the jump point one more time and smiled.

''Hurricane, you have misjudged the jump. It's to your right. I repeat, Hurricane, you are going to miss the jump entirely. Cut your acceleration and prepare to be boarded.''

''She's zigging to the right,'' Addison said.

''And waving just a bit too much of her engines at me,'' Kris muttered. She dialed her three lasers into a loose pattern, put in the best estimate she had of range, and selected one-quarter power. Shooting a three-laser salvo, she got a good spread. All missed, but number four missed the least. Quickly, Kris tightened her pattern and re-formed it around number four. Again, she racked up three misses, but this time number two was closest. Reworking her solution, tightening her salvo spread, Kris moved her fingers over her battle board as quickly as three and a half g's allowed.

She had juice for two more shots.

Again number four was closest. Kris adjusted her salvo for her final shot as she listened to Tommy praying fervently for the lives of the Hurricane's crew. Kris had gotten three shots off without the corvette changing course.

She paused for a second, her fingers on the fire buttons. The flag began a zig to the left. Kris made a quick adjustment and fired.

For a long second she waited. She'd shot the Typhoon dry to wing the flag, slow her down, make her unstable, and just maybe help any sane person on board get a drop on the commodore.

Somewhere in the Typhoon, radar and laser pulses went out and came back. Somewhere gravitational and optical systems did their measuring. Somewhere a computer assessed all that feedback and reported it to Kris's battle board. It seemed like ages that the blip on her screen continued, unaffected, on its way. Then the blip wavered for a second and began a wild series of loops.

''By God, Kris, you winged ‘em!'' Tommy screamed.

''Just a second,'' Addison shouted. ''Just a second. Yes. They're out of range of the jump. They can't make the jump.''

Kris let her hand collapse on the commlink ''Hurricane, you are out of control. You cannot make the jump. For God's sake, cut your engines before they explode. Don't let that bastard kill you all,'' Kris pleaded. ''Damn it, I fired a captain. You can sack that damn Sampson.''

The Hurricane seemed to settle again on its course. Then all acceleration died.

''This is Captain Horicson. I am surrendering the ship to a junior officer. The commodore is unconscious. What do you want me to do?''

''Put one g deceleration on your boat,'' Kris ordered.

''See that Sampson gets some medical attention. There are a lot of officers that want to have a word with him.''

''They can have him,'' came back from the Hurricane. ''He damn near killed us all.''

So the strange tale of Attack Squadron Six ended. The celebration at Paris 8 was long finished and the fleets long gone to their respective homes before Kris got the Typhoon, Hurricane, and Scirocco down to a manageable speed. Most of Scout Squadron Fifty-four didn't miss the festivities, but Patton drew the duty of rendezvousing with the remnants of AttackRon Six to pass reaction mass.

The Typhoon was bleeding sewage into the reactors before she fell in formation with the old cruiser. No sooner was a fuel line passed than Tom was tapping Kris's elbow. ''We got a coded message coming in.''

Kris ran the number groups through the decoder. It didn't seem all that secret to her. She tapped her commlink. ''The Typhoon, Hurricane, and Scirocco are ordered to rendezvous with the battleship Magnificent still in orbit around Paris 8. All personnel suspected of being involved in the attack conspiracy will be transferred to the Magnificent and returned to Wardhaven under guard. All other officers are ordered to the Magnificent for debriefing and TDY to Wardhaven as material witnesses. The corvettes will draw new officers on temporary assignment to get them back to High Cambria.''

That left the crew in a happy mood. Tommy eyed Kris when she didn't join in the smiles. ''Anything in there about you?''

''Yes. Ensign Kris Longknife is detached from the Typhoon, with orders to report to Wardhaven,''

''Detached?''

Kris knew they couldn't very well make her captain of the Typhoon, but to yank her off of it like this? She tried to look at the bright side. ''At least I'm not under guard.''