Resolute

Chapter 1

Lieutenant Kris Longknife's footsteps echoed off the walls of the space station. Kris had expected High Chance to be bustling with business. Instead it looked like a tin can, rinsed and ready to be dumped in the nearest recycle bin.

There was no sign of a welcoming committee from her new command… Naval District 41. No sign of anything… alive.

''They told me it was an independent command,'' Kris half whispered to herself.

''Did they mention it was solitary?'' came from behind her.

Kris turned. Lieutenant Penny Pasley-Lien had been very quiet on the trip out to Chance. Penny was recently a bride and only slightly more recently a widow. Kris measured Penny's words for joke or serious, and found them balanced on a knife edge.

''At least there's no sign of an attack,'' said First Lieutenant Jack Montoya, in full battle armor—and paranoia mode. Now of the Royal United Sentient Marines, Jack formally had been in Wardhaven's Secret Service. The exact circumstances of his change in service were something Kris did not want to think about.

His uniformed presence at her elbow served as a too-present reminder that even though Great-grampa Trouble was well over a hundred years old, he was still very much trouble. Jack's M-6 assault rifle tracked his eyes as he surveyed the empty station. ''No sign of anything,'' the suddenly-a-Marine concluded.

Kris had had enough of this blind man's… or woman's… bluff. ''Nelly, please access the station's security system.''

Nelly was Kris's pet computer. A half kilo of self-organizing circuits wrapped around Kris's shoulders. Since the last upgrade, Nelly was plugged daintily and directly into Kris's brain. She was also worth about half of what this station cost. Maybe more, since this station looked much worse for its lack of occupation.

''Kris, I can't,'' came back, almost plaintively.

''And why can't you?'' Kris demanded.

''Cause somebody turned this station off at the switch,'' Chief Beni answered as Nelly got out a more accurate explanation that boiled down to the same. Nelly actually sounded huffy as she finished well after Beni.

This confirmed a growing suspicion that Kris's electronic tech whiz Beni and electronic tech miracle Nelly were developing a sibling rivalry. Just what I need.

But she'd needed Beni's technical wizardry for the last three months during her Training Command assignments. And she'd need him even more at Naval District 41. From the looks of things… or lack of things… she couldn't afford to lose anyone.

And life without Nelly was unthinkable.

As Kris was learning to do of late, she sidestepped the thornier problem and faced the immediate one. ''So where is this switch?''

''That way,'' both the chief and Nelly said. The chief was a bit slow to point since Jack had him in full space armor. Nelly flashed a light at the alley beside The Dragon Queen's Chinese Take Out among the midstation shops.

Like everything else, it was boarded up.

Kris led her crew from the station's Deck 1 with its usual gray carpets and unusual decorations. Just about every square inch of wall was a painting. The station looked like an art museum. Or maybe art studio. The paintings ran the full breadth of art history from primitive to Impressionistic. Kris's mother might have bought some.

Even the dim alley Kris led her three associates into looked like an artist's day at the zoo.

It was hard to think of Jack as her subordinate for reasons that were becoming clearer every time the Marine first lieutenant gave her an order. And she'd learned at OCS never to consider a chief as anything less than God. Beni had weakened his case for divinity by failing to locate that bomb on Tristan and just barely spotting the one on Kaylia in time. Still, Kris was none the worse for the two assassination attempts, but she was definitely persona non grata in Training Command.

Hopefully, Naval District 41 would go better.

The elevator was in a blandly gray space that still stank of garbage. Jack looked like he wanted to test-ride it, but Kris got to the button first, punched it open, and led right in. She took position at the back, daring Jack to haul her out.

Jack eyed her for a second like he wanted to toss her over his shoulder and lug her back to Pride of St. Petersburg. He apparently thought better of it as Beni punched Three. Nelly announced the command deck was on three. They took off, Penny standing quietly in her own corner, seeming so much smaller than the beaming woman who said ''I do'' to Tommy such a short time ago.

The ride progressed in fits and starts, with I-told-you-so glares from one Royal marine. Kris stared at the ceiling, something she was getting very good at, until the elevator bumped to a stop.

The doors hung up halfway open.

Kris leaned over to peer around two male heads eyeballing a large open space dimly lit by one flickering light. Passageways headed off in various directions, some poorly lit. Others dark. Everything was painted a standard Navy gray.

Except for a splotch on the far wall.

''Looks like blood,'' the Marine lieutenant snapped. ''Beni, why don't you have your weapon out?''

''Yes, sir,'' the chief said, drawing his service automatic.

''You Navy types keep back,'' Jack said to the senior officers present who were craning to get a look over his shoulder. ''Beni, cover me,'' and the Marine slipped through the door in full-assault mode.

Since his OCS had been abbreviated to just a Gunny Sergeant showing him how to wear the uniform without embarrassing the rest of the Corps, the Secret Service must have included SWAT drills in Jack's earlier training. The guy did look deadly and determined.

Kris figured now might be a good time to pay attention to his concerns. She pulled an automatic from the small of her back. It looked standard Navy issue. But she was one-of-those-damn-Longknifes. Its magazine held three times the normal load of 4-mm darts.

Penny drew her own automatic, identical to Kris's. It had been a wedding gift, one of several Kris hoped would make Penny and Tom's life around her safer if not saner. Silly Kris, she hadn't wrapped a single gift for blowing up a battleship.

Kris swallowed survivor's guilt for the forty-eleventh time.

Penny had not taken her eyes off the stain as she checked the safety on her automatic. ''You sure that's not rust?''

''Navy, I told you to keep your heads down,'' Jack bit back as he tried to check every direction at once. His M-6 snapping from one hallway to another as he tried to check every direction at once.

Chief Beni wiggled his growing gut through the stuck door. Training Command chow had been very good to him. He did keep his automatic at the ready… sort of. He frowned at the wall and its mottling. Ignoring the Marine, he sauntered over to it, dipped his pinky in the offending matter, smelled it, tasted it, and then looked up.

''Yep. It's just water and some rust.''

''It kind of looked like that,'' Penny said, her voice half-distracted. ''Tommy would have been able to tell at a glance. He was good at things like that.''

Kris reached over to rest a gentle hand on Penny's shoulder. ''Yes, he was.''

''Well, thank all the gods in space it was just a bit of poor maintenance,'' Jack muttered at full volume. ''You can come out, Lieutenant, Your Highness, Commandership. I hope you keep not needing the Security Chief you so eminently ignore.''

If Kris followed every instruction, order, or bit of advice Jack was authorized to give her and that she was required by regulation to obey, she'd never set foot outside her bedroom at Nuu House on Wardhaven. Some Naval career that would be.

But then, both Grampa Trouble and Grampa Ray, his Royal Kingship included, had known she'd keep right on ignoring half of Jack's orders. Only now he got to nanny her through every square centimeter of space. And she'd been gulled into drafting him into his new authority over her. Grampa Trouble, you are so trouble. And Grampa Ray, you're not much better.

Pulling herself up to a full six feet of regal majesty, automatic still at high port, and dredging the Imperial ''we'' up for impact, Kris smiled. ''We appreciate your concern and rest assured that you will continue to spare no effort for the safety of our high and august person.''

Jack snarled, teeth showing, but he limited his response to drumming his fingers on the barrel of his weapon in silent frustration. He'd been doing a lot of that lately.

''That's the door to the Command Center,'' the chief and Nelly said at close enough to the same time that only a computer could have told who spoke first. Kris was not about to ask Nelly which one had.

Computers were supposed to be scrupulously honest, but Kris wouldn't bet an Earth dollar that Nelly still qualified for that virtue. Not where the chief was concerned.

As Jack took station to the left of the not airtight door, he motioned the chief to the right. With his free hand, he waved Kris and Penny to spread out. Kris gave some thought to the two bombs in the last three months and decided standing behind Jack and his wide, armored shoulders might be a good idea. She sidestepped to there; Penny stood behind the chief.

''Open it, Chief.''

Beni screwed up his face in a ''Why me'' complaint, courage not being one of his obvious virtues, but then did it. The hinges complained but the door opened better than partway before it screeched to a stop. The room inside was dark.

Rolling his eyes to the ceiling as if he might find a reason why such valiant effort was suddenly becoming his portion in life, the electronics wizard felt around inside the door with his right hand, keeping most of his body outside. With a click, flickering illumination lit up the space

Kris edged out from behind Jack to get a better view. There wasn't much to see: silent workstations, overhead lights struggling to come on. Some succeeded. Others gave up and settled for dark.

''No boom,'' Penny said, giving voice to all their thoughts.

''Chief, put those bells and whistles of yours to use for something besides paper weights,'' Jack snapped. ''Tell me something I don't already know about that room.''

Kris might be in dress whites for the change of command ceremony that seemed to be very much delayed, but she hadn't been totally lacking in survival instincts. Rigged in her hat, indeed in every hat she now owned, were antennas that should let Nelly take the measure of every electron within several miles around her more active than those in a glass of water. Nelly, talk to me.

The only actives in there are from seventeen overhead lights. No, sixteen, formed in Kris's brain a full second faster than Chief Beni got the same words out. ''Nothing ticking. Nothing tocking, Your Marineship,'' the chief added.

Beni had never been what the Navy called ''spit and polish.'' His time in Training Command, bouncing from planet to planet with Kris and her team of hooligan Navy mosquito boats had not been a good influence on him. Clearly, Kris needed to have a counseling session with the young chief soonest. Either that or promote him to officer and have some old chief square him away.

Since the newly minted Marine officer ignored the chief's last remark and began a slow, cautious entrance into the Command Center, Kris assigned the chief's future counseling and/or promotion a low priority and returned to the problem at hand.

Where was her new command?

Jack and the chief did a quick search of the center. Kris and Penny, their automatics pointed at a nondescript overhead that didn't dare move, kept an eye on the wavering shadows in the several hallways leading off from the elevator. It was spooky, but the shadows stayed empty.

''I got something,'' the chief announced.

''What is it?'' three voices asked.

''A letter.''

''A letter?'' Kris said.

''Yeah. On flimsy.''

''Is it booby-trapped?'' Jack demanded.

''No strings attached, and nothing but the minimum static charge to keep the letters on the page, sir. It's just a memo, addressed to the next CO. And it's laid out, each page, side by side, so you don't even have to pick it up to read it.''

''What's it say?'' Kris said, ducking her head inside.

''Ma'am, I think you better read this yourself,'' the chief said, sounding, if anything, bashful.

Kris raised an eyebrow to Penny. If there was a dirty joke in human space that Beni would balk at sharing in mixed company, they hadn't heard it. What would make the young man unwilling to read them this message intended for Naval District 41's next Commanding Officer?

Kris stepped into the empty command center. Her command center. The air was stale like the rest of the station. No low hum of blowers. No human sweat. This was supposed to be the command center for several parsecs of human space. It stood vacant, defending nothing.

Maybe five years ago, when the Society of Humanity's writ still held sway in human inhabited space, a planet might take such a risk. Not now. Not in today's worlds of battleship diplomacy. Someone was taking a huge gamble with their future.

Jack wasn't gambling with Kris's personal safety. Like a good Secret Service agent, he backed into a corner that gave him a view of all three entrances to the command center. It had seemed like such a good idea when Grampa Trouble suggested maybe Kris could use a Chief of Security on her new command.

She'd readily agreed. Too readily, it seemed. Only after the paperwork was cut and a fuming Jack was decked out in dress red-and-blues and sporting a single silver bar of a first lieutenant, one very significant promotion below Kris, did he show up suddenly smiling. It seems that Grampa Trouble had taken him aside and walked him through the new regulations that came into play when a member of the royal blood was a serving member of the military.

As if there was more than one of Kris.

And suddenly Kris discovered that the chief of her security detail, no matter what his rank, could issue her orders. Tell her what she could and could not do!

It had been a rough trip out. It looked to be a rough command as well.

And that was before the skipper of the St. Pete commed Kris and told her that High Chance was only responding with automatics. No human voice. Nothing but the basics.

Beni and Nelly's scans showed only the most fundamental activity on the station. Solar cells feed battery back-ups and not much more. No reactor on-line. Just about nothing.

The skipper of the St. Pete balked at docking at High Chance under those circumstances, but Kris pointed out the contract he'd signed for her transportation. He could dock, therefore he would dock or face the legal assault an angry Longknife could throw at his company. Fuming, he brought his ship alongside the station, and, to his surprise, the automatics clicked into gear and hauled it in. The last thing Kris heard as she crossed the gangplank was that the St. Pete was even drawing reaction mass from the stations' tanks. And being charged for it. Some things were working. Some things always worked if you paid for them.

Like BuPers. Navy personnel always got assignments. Probably not the one they wanted, but, what with the fleet growing, there were always plenty of vacancies to go around. Unless your father happened to be the Prime Minister and your Great-grandfather was the king, of sorts, of the hundred-planet association that Wardhaven tried to lead.

''And don't forget that situation on the Typhoon,'' General Mac McMorrison had reminded her at their last meeting.

Situation. What a nice ambiguous word. It avoided the more specific and nasty word… mutiny. Kris had actually taken a friend's half-joking suggestion and hired a PR firm to come up with a better word for what developed on the Typhoon. Several large checks later, their report had been hardly worth a laugh. Probably because Kris hadn't felt all that much like laughing after the Battle of Wardhaven and the loss of so many friends. No, the Typhoon and mutiny were going to be tied closely with her first year in the Navy.

''Still having problems finding skippers willing to take me?''

''Afraid so. Commodore Mandanti put in a good word after your service in Squadron 8, but most of his friends are retired, like he was. And even his good word kind of leaves skippers wondering when you'll decide you've had enough of being a good subordinate and head off for points unknown.''

Kris shrugged. ''Training Command was working so well.''

''But no planet small enough to need Fast Patrol boats for its defense can afford the kind of security you need. And no one wants to be the planet that has to explain to Ray Longknife… or Billy… that you got killed on their watch. Sorry, Your Highness, but once again, we need to find work for you.''

''What's Sandy Santiago doing?'' Kris said, with hope.

''You mean Captain Santiago,'' Mac corrected her. ''I've got her straightening up some of the mess left behind by that little visit those six pirate battleships did on us.''

''Pirate battleships my eye,'' Kris spat.

''You want to attack the Greenfeld Confederacy?''

''No,'' Kris admitted. Wardhaven's United Sentients and Greenfeld's Confederacy were too evenly matched; open war between them would lead to all kinds of horrors. Which was why Greenfeld dearly wanted Wardhaven in a fight with someone while Greenfeld added this or that additional star to its black and red flag. Meanwhile, they skirmished around the edges.

''So Captain Santiago doesn't have a ship command at the moment,'' Kris said. As a very junior lieutenant, Kris very much wanted to stay in the fleet, not get tagged as a staff weenie.

Mac shuffled flimsies, one of which was Kris's resignation. They never had one of these counseling sessions without him having her resignation handy. ''You adamant about a ship assignment? What would you think of an independent command?''

''Didn't you tell me during an earlier one of these chats that lieutenants don't get independent commands?''

''I may have been mistaken. It happens occasionally, even to folks with stars on their shoulders. Ask your gramps.''

This was after Grampa Trouble pulled his ''draft Jack'' stunt and Kris wasn't talking to either one of her grampas just then. She kept her face blank and said, ''What kind of independent command can a lieutenant have?''

''How about a Naval District?''

Kris frowned at the joke. ''Aren't those slots all Rear Admirals?'' Kris struggled to keep her voice even. Lieutenants do not chide four stars. Even when the lieutenant is a princess. Especially when the lieutenant is a princess.

''That's what I'd have said a week ago. But BuPers got this retirement chit from a lieutenant commanding Naval District 41.''

Kris didn't know which to react to first. Lieutenant. Commanding. Naval District 41. She'd never heard of any such Naval District. She settled her face to bland and let Mac play this one the way he wanted to. After all, he did wear four stars. He ought to have some fun sometimes.

''It seems we inherited 41 when Society broke up. Earth hadn't been paying much attention to it, except to cut its budget every year. I don't think they've had anything but local reservists on the staff, except for this lieutenant commanding.''

''How did a lieutenant get command of a Naval district?'' Kris couldn't sit on that question any longer.

''Actually, he was temporary acting. A captain assigned to Naval District 41 died in transit.'' Mac shuffled his flimsies. ''Next one wrangled a better assignment. They never got around to assigning anyone else, so this fellow put in his twenty and filed for retirement.'' Mac looked up. ''With us.''

''Retiring at twenty as a lieutenant?'' Kris whispered.

''Says here he wants to run a chicken farm full-time.''

''You're thinking of sticking me out there for my twenty?''

Mac shuffled her resignation to the top of his stack again.

''Cut my orders,'' Kris said.

''Besides First Lieutenant Montoya, do you want anyone else?''

''Lieutenant Pasley-Lien on Intel.''

''She's still not fully recovered from her wounds,'' the general said, raising an eyebrow. The physical wounds were healing. The mental pay for being alive at the cost of her bridegroom's life would be a long time balancing.

''She did fine in Training Command. She needs work more than anything else.'' And Longknifes take care of those they break.

The general nodded.

''Does Captain Santiago want Beni back?''

''Actually, she was hoping you could make a sailor out of him. Any progress there?''

''Not much, but he is due for his chief's hat.''

''A bit early, isn't it,'' the general said, and danged if he didn't have another flimsy to check.

''Deep selection, but he deserves it.''

And so Kris found herself hundreds of light-years away from home, clicking the safety back on her automatic before she holstered it and staring down at a set of flimsies written to her by a man she'd never met but whose fate in life she might repeat.

To: Prospective Commanding Officer, Naval District 41

From: Commanding Officer, Naval District 41, retiring.

Subject: Change of Command Ceremony

There ain't going to be one.

Sorry about that, but I had to do what I had to do while I could still do it. The reservists have served with me for a whole lot more hours than any of them ever expected to. They deserve the retirements I signed them in to.

And they don't deserve to be dragged all over space to fit into whatever plans you Longknifes may have for them now that you've noticed that they're here. Wardhaven and Earth ignored us for as long as it suited you. So now that you noticed us after I applied for my retirement, I figured I better look after my own. Bet nobody expected me, a mere lieutenant to exercise the full authority of a Naval District Commander? Got you there.

Nelly, can I approve the request for reservists to RETIRE?

Per existing regulations, you may approve retirement REQUESTS FOR ANY ENLISTED RESERVE PERSONNEL WHO HAVE MET THE STATUTORY REQUIREMENTS. AT LEAST, A Naval District Commander can, Nelly added.

But who'd have expected a lieutenant to do that. Well, you leave a lieutenant in an admiral's job for fifteen years and he's bound to notice options the usual JO wouldn't.

And he is retired now. It is not like we can do something TO HIM.

There were snickers from behind Kris. Chief Beni and Penny were looking over her shoulder. Jack looked about to bust a gut wondering what the message said that was causing such humor, but he manfully stood his watch.

''There won't be a change of command,'' Kris said for Jack's benefit. ''Seems the last CO also retired all his reservists.''

''No active duty?'' Jack said, frowning.

''Not a one,'' the chief chortled.

''At ease,'' Kris growled.

Jack blinked, taking it all in, then shook his head. ''You can't command if there's no one to command,'' he said with much the same absoluteness that a child might say, ''One and one is two.''

''I am the commander of Naval District 41,'' Kris said, letting that Longknife determination salt the words.

''It may get a bit lonely,'' Penny said, glancing around, then settling into a chair at the table.

Kris wasn't going to wait for any more nay saying. ''Chief, activate this station. Let's see what we have here.''

''All of it? I don't think the solar arrays can.''

''If the chief will throw that main switch,'' Nelly said, ''I have developed a plan to activate the security system and other key subsets so we can determine if the station is safe.''

With a scowl at Kris's neckline, Chief Beni went where Nelly said, threw a switch, punched some buttons, and started doing his own version of waking up the station.

''Don't activate the central power station,'' Nelly said.

''We have to,'' Beni shot back.

''Nelly, Chief, you two take it over there and argue among yourselves,'' Kris ordered. ''Penny, Jack, verify that we are alone on this station and it is safe and stable.''

''I have verified that you should be getting right back on that ship that brought you and leaving this station,'' Jack snapped. ''We are what, two, three jumps from Peterwald space since they took down the government on Brenner Pass. Kris, this is not a safe station for you. Not like this.''

But Penny backed her chair away from the table, spun in it and started initializing a workstation, bringing it up as a security monitor. It gave her a quick report of All Clear. She then took it through a slower and more specific survey, ending with her eyeballing several locations around the station. ''Everything looks as good as a place can be that's been powered down for the last, ah, three weeks, at least.''

Jack looked over Penny's shoulder for a minute, doing his own check, lips going tighter as the moments passed. ''Yes, yes, if you aren't bothered by a security system that doesn't ask you for any password when you wake it up,'' he growled, then turned to Kris. ''So, it doesn't look like there are some hungry cannibals hiding out, waiting to roast you for dinner. Still, Kris, ah, Princess, you can't mean to leave yourself hanging out here for any passing ship to take a shot at.''

Jack had a point. A good one, as his usually were. But like most of his good points, it was not what Kris wanted to hear.

She gave him her best optimist smile. ''Isn't there an old Navy tradition that says ‘Don't give up the ship?' ''

''This is a space station,'' Chief Beni said, helpfully, from where he and Nelly were still arguing how much juice they could pull. ''Maybe it doesn't count.''

Kris eyed the young chief. His lower chin… and middle one, too… was quivering. He'd proven he could be plenty courageous when all hell was busting loose. He just didn't believe in going there if he could avoid it.

Kris settled into a chair at the table. Nice simulated wood. Solid. Wide. Jack couldn't get at her without giving plenty of warning. She let the silence fill up. Penny was the first to notice it. She spun her chair around and returned to the table. Chief Beni and Nelly reached some sort of accord, and fell silent. The chief came to the table. Kris actually felt a more concentrated presence of Nelly in her head and on her shoulders. Jack finally double-checked the safety on his assault rifle, laid it on the table, and settled into a chair beside Penny.

''Well, Your Highness, it appears that you want to hold a staff meeting,'' he said. ''Is it to seek advice or, as usual, to let us know what mess you're getting us into next?''

''The usual,'' Kris said with the best perky smile she could manufacture at the moment. Jack didn't look fooled. He kept drumming his fingers on his rifle.

''Look, we've got a Naval District to defend,'' Kris said.

''Does it need defending?'' Penny asked.

That gave Kris pause. ''Of course. How can you say that?''

''Well, just look at it,'' Penny said, slowly turning her chair from one side to the other. The Intel officer was mostly quiet these days. Withdrawn. But she wasn't any dumber than she'd been when she said yes to Tommy's proposal. ''The place has been sitting here unattended and getting along fine. It's been ignored by Earth and Wardhaven since forever, and no one bothered it.'' Penny shrugged. ''I mean, Kris, if you want to have the command, I'm all for sticking with you, but, defend this place. Aren't you getting a little carried away?''

Kris sat back in her chair. No, Penny wasn't dumb… and she'd seen straight to where Kris lived. But she hadn't totally read Kris's mind.

Or Nelly's. Just let us find out what lies behind my new jump points, the computer said, and we shall see who is interested in Chance.

Yes, girl, but we can't go checking out aliens right now.

Yes ma'am, Nelly said obediently. Sort of.

Kris made sure her conversation with Nelly didn't reach her face. Slowly she eyed Jack and Chief Beni. They looked pretty much in agreement with Penny. That was the problem when you worked with people you let become close friends. They knew when you were pulling the wool over your own eyes even before you did.

Kris really did want her own command. Even if it was just quiet Naval District 41. She let her breath out in a sigh. ''Okay, let's start over. Naval District 41 doesn't look like much, but it's mine, see. All mine. I'd like to see what I can do with it. That honest enough?''

''And if a half dozen Iteeche destroyers come loping through the local jump point…?'' Jack said.

''We head dirtside, rouse the locals to guerrilla warfare, and hide in the deepest caves we can find,'' Kris said.

''I can drink to that,'' the chief said, raising an imaginary mug of brew.

Jack shook his head. ''I don't like it, Kris,'' he said for the millionth time.

''You're not paid to like it, Jack,'' Kris answered for the millionth and first time.

''So we're going to just sit here and play target?''

''No,'' Kris cut in, letting her Longknife grin out to play. ''I have no intention of just sitting anywhere. We've got buoys to tend, places to explore.''

You bet, Nelly said with as much of a playful grin as a computer was allowed. I want to see where those new jump points lead.

Down, girl. All in due time.

''You don't have a ship, Kris,'' Penny pointed out. ''Not really. You don't intend to use that cruiser for anything but show, do you?''

Kris had gotten a good look at the Patton, an Iteeche Wars era light cruiser, tied up to the station when the St. Pete was on approach. Her orders were not to commission the ship except for a major emergency. Her orders didn't define what was a major emergency, but after a quick glance at the report on the old cruiser, Kris was pretty sure she'd have to be very desperate to even try to get the reactors going for that old bucket of bolts. The contractors who brought it out had slept in space suits… something about not trusting the ship to keep its pressure up. They'd been only too glad to be quit of the ship. They'd spent the trip out identifying discrepancies, not looking for them, just listing the ones that slapped them in the face. Kris ran the list and quit when it went past four hundred thousand.

Some brilliant type at headquarters had come up with the idea that the people on planets might feel safer in these uncertain times if they had a warship in their sky. Maybe other planets got something better, but clearly Chance had drawn the bottom of the barrel. No, the Patton was not a likely means of transportation for Kris.

Besides, Kris didn't need a full-fledged cruiser to check the Jump Point buoys and do the looking around she had in mind. No, something much smaller would fit her needs very nicely.

''We need a buoy tender. Nice little one.''

Penny shook her head. ''I don't think Naval District 41 is funded for a buoy tender, even part-time. My record check showed it hasn't had one pass through for the last five years, then I quit looking. No way will the Navy assign one to us.''

Kris grinned at Penny. ''So we don't ask the Navy for one. Ever leased a boat before?''

The Intel officer relaxed into her chair. ''That's a relief. For a moment, I was afraid you wanted me to hijack one.''

''She'd never do that,'' Jack said, face dead serious. ''If there's a ship to be stolen, she'll do it herself.''

Kris shot Jack a glare but he just grinned back at her. Kris returned her attention to the Navy lieutenant. ''All we need is a small merchant vessel with a hold large enough for a half dozen spare buoys. Obviously, it needs to be jump capable. Bigger than our PFs, smaller than a corvette like the Typhoon.''

Penny was nodding, but a frown was growing. ''And you want me to lease it. With what?''

''Nelly, arrange a line of credit on my account.''

Penny shook her head. ''Kris, didn't you learn anything from all the flack you got from the Navy for using your personal computer for official business. Just because they've given up telling you that you can't have Nelly do this or that…''

''I should hope so,'' Nelly cut in.

''But renting your own ship for Navy business…''

''So we don't tell them and it won't bother them.''

''What they don't know won't hurt us,'' Jack sighed.

''You're catching on,'' Kris said.

''Lorna Do is the next port of call for the St. Pete?'' Penny said, getting lost in thought. ''I guess I could rent something.''

''A six-month wet lease,'' Kris advised. ''Include a crew. From the looks of things, we're going to need one.''

''For buoy tending,'' Penny said.

''And other duties as I may assign,'' Kris added.

''Don't tell them a Longknife is involved or no one will take the contract,'' Jack added dryly.

''You really think so,'' Penny said, then seemed to think better of it and nodded. ''Yeah, you're right. I don't think I'll mention who I'm working with.''

''You going to send her alone,'' Jack said, softly.

Kris didn't need the hint. Left all on her own, Kris wasn't sure Penny would survive a long trip. ''I'll send Abby along to make sure no one hassles you,'' Kris said. ''I won't need her to gussy me up for balls. Things ought to be pretty quiet here.''

''Things are pretty quiet here,'' the chief pointed out.

''Wonder how long that will last?'' Penny said.

''At least five or ten minutes,'' Jack said.

''Folks, this is a backwater. Nothing ever happens at Chance. That's why they gave me Naval District 41.''

''Yeah. Right,'' came from Kris's three nominal subordinates.

Kris watched on the station's screen as the Pride of St. Petersburg boosted out of orbit. Abby had been hired by Kris's mother to be a personal maid but she hadn't complained about being sent off with Penny. Kris was no longer surprised by anything Abby did. Or didn't do.

''I wonder how many steamer trunks she's got with her this trip?'' Jack asked no one in particular.

''She brought twelve aboard,'' Kris said. ''I was looking forward to seeing how many she rolled off the St. Pete.'' For some strange reason, Abby always had a better idea of how much trouble Kris was headed into. The number of steamer trunks following Abby rather regularly… and accurately… foretold how many rabbits Kris would need to pull out of hats to get free of whatever mess she ended up in.

Kris kept telling herself she needed to have a talk with Abby, but somehow the time was never quite right for such a sit-down. Maybe, if Naval District 41 was as quiet as claimed, she and Abby could finally have that heart-to-heart girl talk.

Kris turned away from the screen, rubbed her hands together, and smiled, an optimistic little thing that she rarely got to use. ''Let's see what we have here.''

Six hours later, she kind of wished she hadn't.

She started with the Patton. Or those parts of the ship not closed off with doors marked Do Not Open. Low Pressure Beyond. That eliminated a major chunk of the ship from review.

On the bridge, Kris could only shake her head. ''I was very glad to see the Patton and the rest of Scout Squadron 54 show up at Paris when they did. The reserve crew's work to get her moving must have been nothing short of heroic.''

''The Patton helped you?'' Jack was one of the few people cleared to know exactly what happened when the Wardhaven and Earth fleets gathered at the Paris system to sign the de-evolution agreement that formally dissolved the Society of Humanity… and why they didn't go to war over it. Kris's part in that was still much debated by those in the know.

''Yep, it turned out Grampa Trouble served on the Patton, a long time ago. He and Great-grandma Ruth honeymooned on it.''

Jack raised an eyebrow. ''Must have been in better shape.''

''Not as Grampa tells it. They were attacked by pirates once. The skipper ordered a broadside and the ship did loop the loops instead. A system board had been installed backward.''

Jack shook his head. ''Well, it doesn't look any better now. Your orders frock you up to commander if you commission her.'' He arched an eyebrow.

Does he really think I'm that rank happy?

''I think I'll live longer if I stay a lieutenant.''

''Finally, something we can agree on.''

Nelly wanted Kris to power up the sensors on the boat, see if Kris could locate the putative extra jump point out of the system that the data on Nelly's bit of rock from the Santa Maria mountains seemed to show. Most of the navigation instruments had red flags draped on them. Out of Order.

Guess we'll have to take that look another time.

Nelly wasn't buying that answer. But does it mean out of order or just that they were picking up my jump point and didn't know how to read it?

Down, girl. The ship has no power. The station's barely on. Your time is coming. Patience my dear.

Patience my nonexistent ass! Was Nelly's unladylike response.

Kris found herself biting her lip to control a laugh.

''Want to let me in on the joke?'' Jack asked.

''No, just me and my insubordinate computer. Nelly is not behaving.'' Jack accepted the explanation with visible doubt.

The rest of the station was shipshape and empty. Kris checked an auto gun. It was locked down locally, ammunition belts removed. If she wanted to defend this station, she'd need them reactivated. And people to monitor their fire. The station had close-in defense lasers. Kris didn't have the juice to power any of them up. So long as the station was on solar cells, it could operate. To become a going concern, it needed its fusion reactor on-line. Three people could not run a reactor even if they were trained to do it. Kris's weren't.

''I could run it if you want me to,'' Nelly offered. Jack and Beni both looked relieved when Kris declined the offer.

Kris found her quarters as Commander, Naval District 41. Somehow in the quick turnaround of the St. Pete, Abby had slipped one of her steamer trunks up to Kris's room. Just one, and it held only Kris's uniforms and personal effects.

Jack found a trunk in his quarters, or at least the quarters for the District's never-used Deputy Commander across the hall from Kris's. His trunk also had Beni's duffel bag on top of it. The chief settled into the room next to Jack's, a nice one officially designated for VIP guests. Jack and Beni arranged enough security along the corridor to satisfy themselves that neither needed to maintain a watch through the night.

Kris left them to worry about that, set Nelly on watch, and slept the night through.

She awoke early the next morning to find that the station had continued its routine journey around Chance, there was still air to breathe and no cannibals had nibbled her toes. Finding a set of fresh khakis in the trunk, Kris showered, dressed, and went looking for something to eat. That last lunch on the St. Pete, while nicely cruise-ship huge, was a distant memory.

She found a mess large enough to seat a hundred, a kitchen fit to feed a similar mob, and a pile of combat meals gathering dust. One had been opened. Apparently the chief, quick to point out he was a growing boy, had done a bit of culinary exploring yesterday. Kris got a small coffeepot going, and soon found Jack at her elbow. Showered, shaved, and in undress green slacks, khaki shirt, and field scarf, he frowned at Kris's food choices.

''No one ever died from field rations,'' Kris reminded him, less he invoke some security regulation to leave her famished.

''Yes, but no one ever called them food, either,'' he said, filling a coffee mug from Kris's first handiwork. ''Hmm, Your Highness, you can boil water.''

''Suborn crews, steal armed vessels, and boil water. Not a bad résumé.''

''Between just us, just how long will you keep this up?''

An honest question deserved an honest answer. She decided the scrambled eggs could warm without her attention, took her own mug, and settled across the table from her Security Chief. Keeping a table between them was getting to be a habit. At the moment, if Jack decided to throw her over his shoulder and carry her off to someplace safe… there really wasn't anyplace safe to go. Still, it was a good habit, and Kris maintained it.

''I don't know, Jack. Believe it or not, yesterday took me by surprise.''

Jack nodded. ''So you were making it up as you went along.''

''Who'd have thought…'' But Kris stopped herself before she rehashed their yesterday. Today looked to be a bigger problem… and they were going to have to face it.

Jack seemed to be doing a good job of mind reading. Or maybe he'd been around her enough to know her usual pattern of problem solving. ''So, what do we do today?''

''Eat first, I hope,'' Chief Beni said from the door. He hadn't shaved and was still in a worn sweat suit proclaiming Go Navy. ''If you can call that eating. Remember, Your Princess-ness, I joined the Navy cause they ate better.'' He scowled at the meal warming. ''So why are we eating grunt food?''

''Cause it's all that's available,'' Kris pointed out.

Beni drew his own cup of coffee, and sat down. ''This station has twelve different restaurants. Everything from New Chicago Pizza to Retro Cantonese.''

''All closed,'' Jack reminded him.

''Yeah. How do we fix that?'' Kris asked.

''If you feed them, they will come?'' the chief asked.

''More like if we have work for them, they will come, and then they have to eat,'' Jack corrected.

''So why ain't there nobody working here?''

''If I knew the answer to that,'' Kris said, getting up when Nelly suggested her eggs might be done. ''I'd be a whole lot happier commander.'' They ate, dumped the leavings in a trash bin that would need emptying soon, and were no closer to a solution to their problem.

''Well,'' Kris finally said, ''if there's no one here to answer our questions, I say we go where someone is. Three hundred klicks down there's plenty of folks. Must be someone willing to talk to us. Tell us the local score.''

''There's a bit of a problem, boss,'' the chief said.

''There's a shuttle. Nelly checked before I marooned us here.''

''Yes, ma'am, there's a shuttle for us, maybe a dozen.''

''We've got reaction mass,'' Jack said.

''Yes, sir. St. Pete quit fueling when they got a look at the price. Said they'd fill up at Lorna Do.''

''So.''

''There's just enough antimatter in the shuttle's motor to boil the reaction mass we need to land.'' The chief grinned. ''Unless we can fill up dirtside, if we go down, we stay down.''

Kris took a moment to absorb that before turning to Jack. ''I really want to meet this Lieutenant Steve Kovar. I have got to thank him for the wonderful condition of the command he's turned over to me.''