Deserter (48 page)

The explosion had blown outward as Kris intended. She hoped that didn’t exhaust her supply of luck for today. From the looks of things, she’d be needing a whole lot more.

A cruiser was making its way through the devastation, headed her way.

“Penny, anything new from Sandfire?”

“Nothing.”

“Prepare to rotate ship. Let’s get out of here.” Kris spun the ship, picked a potential jump point, checked to see how much the reactor had heated up while she was using the lateral jets, liked the temperature she had, and put it to good use. “Here comes two g’s” she told her crew.

“And here comes Sandfire,” Penny announced.

“Put him on main screen.”

Sandfire didn’t look nearly as imperial strapped into an acceleration couch. It had been a rush job, two of the straps twisted, Kris saw. He’d be in for a miserable time at high g. His eyes were wide, his coloring florid. A vein on his forehead throbbed, but his words were no less demanding. “Surrender, take all acceleration off your ship and prepare to be boarded.”

Kris shook her head. “Sorry, Sandfire, I’ve let you run me in circles long enough. I’m leaving your little trap.”

Sandfire strained against his straps as he tried to get closer to the camera, loom larger on Kris’s screen. That vein was pounding out a wild beat. “Refuse my orders, and I will blast you out of space.”

Hank coughed twice. “Cal, this is my yacht, and I am on it. You will not fire at me or it.”

Sandfire took Hank’s mild words like a slap. He sat back in his seat for a moment, eyes going wild. Then he smiled, or let his lips turn into what Sandfire passed off as one. “You’re a hostage.”

“I am not a hostage.”

“You’re a hostage of that Longknife terrorist and Smythe-Peterwald policy is never to negotiate for hostages.”

“I assure you, Cal, this may not be the evening I had intended to share with Miss Longknife, but I am in no way a hostage. Considering what just happened at the station, she may have saved my life.”

“She’s the one that blew it up,” he screamed. “She’s the one that nearly killed you and did kill thousands of workers. Ask her. You ask her. Those damn Longknifes have done it again. But this will be the last time that one does anything.”

Kris tried not to react. She’d done everything she could to get people out of her target. Everything possible. What could she answer Hank?

But Hank was less interested in Kris than he was in his own man. “Cal, you need to calm down. I know the expansion on the station was your project. But I’m sure you insured it. You’ve been working hard on your Turantic projects. Don’t let this one setback interfere with your overall business plan. Write it off, move on. There’s more money to be made tomorrow.”

“What would you know, you spoiled brat.” Sandfire spat the words at the screen. Kris measured the arcs the spittle made, then glanced at her board. Yep, that cruiser was accelerating at two g’s. She edged her acceleration up to two and a half.

Hank took two breaths, leaving the words out in the open between him and his associate as he formed his perfect face into friendly concern. “Calvin, you need to get a hold of yourself. You are saying things you’ll regret in the morning. I’ll do my best to forget them, but you have got to control yourself.”

“You stupid kid,” Sandfire shot back. “You don’t know anything about what’s going on here, do you? Longknife, you want to tell him what you just did? What I was about to do and you wrecked. You gunna tell him or shall I?”

Kris edged the acceleration up another quarter g. Whoever was skippering that cruiser was paying more attention to Kris’s speed than Sandfire was. Now it was Kris’s turn to take a deep breath, but at least Hank would learn about things in her words, not Sandfire’s.

“I’m afraid your Mr. Sandfire is right. I have tossed a monkey wrench into his plans . . . again.” She grinned at the screen and was rewarded with a snarl. “Sandfire here was converting every available Turantic merchant ship into a warship and outfitting them as a major battle fleet. Considering the nearly disarmed status of the surrounding planets, he would have cut quite a swath as Attila the Hun. Now his fleet is gone and what army he had President Iedinka raising has no place to go. Check and checkmate.”

“But I’ve got you this time,” Sandfire snapped from the screen. “Captain, fire on that terrorist ship.”

“Firing,” came from the screen as Kris put her ship into a right skid and spun it around its middle. The wild gyrations threw Kris against her straps, but she kept her hand on the acceleration bar, quickly dropping it to one g, then slamming it up to three as the attack board showed lasers missing high and ahead.

“He’s firing on me,” came from Hank. Shock and a gulp of fear told Kris this was a first for him.

“Not his first try for me, but it’s a miss like the rest,” Kris said, trying to sound encouraging.

“Beta, alfa, beta, Xray,” Hank spat. “I don’t know how to use the lasers on this tub, but I’m sure someone here does.”

“Lasers!” Kris chortled in glee.

“Twelve-inch. Full military pulse. Did you notice the size of my capacitors?”

“I did, but some nervous nannies like them that way,” Kris said, as a whole new set of screens appeared on Hank’s station.

“Dad said Greenfeld would be needing a fleet someday, and we might as well have the first warship.”

“Penny, you up to defense?”

“I’m trained. Not qualified.”

“We’ll qualify you today. Tom, you take the conn.”

“I have the conn, executing defensive jinking as needed,” he said.

“I have weapons,” Kris muttered as she rearranged her board, calling up sections of sensors as well as the readouts on the two weapons she had. “Fire control computer is only taking feed from the radar and laser ranging gear.”

“Dad said it was the best Singer AGR made.” Hank sounded a bit defensive.

“Sorry, Hank, you get better ranges when you add in the gravimeter and atom laser.” Kris brought those two readouts up on her board. With no time to program them into the range finder, she adjusted for them in her head.

“Missed us again,” Tom said through clenched teeth.

“Ranging fire, one quarter pulse.” Kris mashed her firing buttons. She missed as well, both shots high and to the right.

KRIS, I CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT, Nelly said.

“Nelly taking over fire control,” Kris announced to the crew.

“Merging all ranging data. Firing one-eighth pulse for ranging,” Nelly announced. Kris raised an eyebrow. The board had only offered her one-quarter power shots. This would allow more and faster ranging fire. A glance at the screen showed even Nelly would need a lot of power for ranging shots. Her first salvo was closer, but still high.

“I am analyzing their defensive jitter pattern,” Nelly said.

“Tom, what’s our pattern?” Kris asked.

“I’ve got four random patterns, and I’m switching between them at random times.”

“Were the patterns in the computer here?”

“Oops, yes.”

“Nelly, generate new patterns for Tom.”

“Feeding them to the system,” Nelly said. “Firing double pattern, one-eighth power.” Each laser shot out two bursts in a rapid staccato.

“Looks like one hit,” but the cruiser danced away, leaving a trail of streaming metal.

“No ice,” Kris snapped. “He’s got no ice to shield him from our lasers.”

“That bad?” Hank asked.

“We’ve at least got the smart metal to move around and thicken up our engaged quarter. He’s got nothing but bare hull between him and our lasers. Nelly, do you have his pattern down?”

“It changed after that hit. Give me a moment to study them.” Kris checked the capacitors. A bit over half a charge was left. Rapid fire might get enough beams out there to matter.

“Nelly, could we fire a fast four pulses, one-eighth power?”

“I do not think so, Kris. The lasers are heating up. I really do not think they were intended for this kind of use.”

Kris glanced at Hank. “Dad figured two shots would be enough to take out anything.”

“Your father is an optimist,” Kris said, did a quick search inside the weapons menu, and found temperature. Yep. Those babies were warm. Not hot, but considering the shots she’d fired so far, a couple of more in quick succession just might melt them to slag.

Time for a new approach to this battle. Run.

“Tom, new course. Fast, low orbit to slingshot us around Turantic, get us headed in a new direction.”

“And get our rockets anywhere but aimed right at Sandfire,” the defense manager in Tom spoke. “Course plotted. Hold on to your underwear folks. Executing.” The
Barbarossa
swung around under power and headed planetward. A broadside from Sandfire’s cruiser filled the space they had been in.

“Good course change,” Kris said.

“Right.” Tom sighed.

“Sandfire is following us,” Penny reported.

“Surprise, surprise,” Jack said with a shake of his head.

“He can’t be shooting at me,” Hank said, still in shock.

“No, Hank, me boy.” Tom’s grin took a bitter turn at its edges. “He’s firing at Kris here. He’s been after her since he kidnapped me. Probably before that. He wants her dead, and you are just in the way like the rest of us mere mortals.”

“Kris? Why would he be after you?”

“Hank, there’s a lot of things your family or corporation does that maybe you aren’t fully informed about.”

“My dad would never let anything get as out of control as this.”

“For what it’s worth, I’ve of late discovered a few things about my family that don’t exactly match the PR releases.”

“I could have told you about some of the stunts you Longknifes have pulled.”

“So maybe I can tell you a few things about the Smythe-Peterwalds that don’t get mentioned in the annual report to stockholders.”

“We’re privately held, as is Nuu Enterprises.”

“Just means we have to dig deeper, Hank. Dig deeper. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to see about keeping us alive.” Kris eyed the capacitors, temperature readouts, and ranging systems. “Penny, put Hank’s buddy Cal on the main screen.”

“Hailing them. Here he is.”

“You ready to surrender?” Sandfire glowered.

“Nope. You’ve missed me every time. I’ve hit you once. Seems to me the honors are mine.”

“You have no honor. You meddle where you have no business. You wreck what others are trying to build. Surrender or die.”

“Break off or you die,” Kris shot back. “We’ve got better ranging gear, better armor. You keep this up, and you and your entire crew,” which was who Kris really was talking to, “will die. Remember, Sandfire, I’ve hit ships in space. I’ve got a combat-experienced crew on my bridge. Has anyone on that tub of yours ever fired a shot in anger?”
Keep talking. While we talk my capacitors fill, my lasers cool.
A glance at the target board also showed Tom opening up the range as well.

“My girls are all killers. I wouldn’t hire them if they weren’t. They’d rather slit your throat than put up with your smirk.”

“But they’re not facing me with a knife or pistol. They’re in my space, under my lasers. This is Lieutenant JG Kris Longknife, United Sentients Navy. Cease your harassing fire, break off your pursuit, and you will live. Keep this up, and I will kill you.”

“Fire! Damn you, fire!” Sandfire shouted. Someone offscreen yelled, “We’re not recharged; just a second, now!” Someone finally remembered to cut off the transmission.

The cruiser fired, but Tom had the
Barbarossa
in a whole new set of slides, jinks, and twists. All missed.

Kris eyed her own board. “Nelly, fire six one-tenth or one-twelfth power pulses. Tight salvo pattern.”

“Firing six pulses, one-twelfth power,” Nelly said.

Two lasers stuttered and reached out with six beams of destruction. Two were near misses. One hit.

The cruiser slipped away from the hit, spinning and shedding metal. It shed other things, larger, that took off under power. “Long boat and several escape pods scattering from the cruiser. Apparently not everyone wants to die with Cal,” Penny reported.

“They’d have to be crazy to,” Hank snapped, head shaking. “I don’t understand this.”

“Pay attention and learn,” Kris said. “Penny, raise me Sandfire.”

“He’s not responding.”

“Try again. Tell him his rats are fleeing the ship.”

“None of my loyal people would ever leave me.” Sandfire was back, filling the screen. His face was red enough to match some of this evening’s explosions. The vein on the right side of his forehead now was matched by one on his left. Kris would not want his blood pressure.

“You want to see what my sensors showed a minute ago? Long boat and survival pods dropping off your boat like petals off a dead daisy.”

“My God, she’s a poet, too,” Tom said in feigned shock.

“And you think I’d believe a Longknife.”

“You must admit I’ve been a bit busy staying alive to doctor media.”

“Longknife, you’ve been causing us trouble since you were a kid and dodged our kidnappers. You should have died on that minefield months ago. Instead, you wrecked what we’d arranged with that ass of a Commodore at Paris. This time I have you in my sights, and I’ll kill you myself. Fire, damn you, fire.”

The ship slid and dodged under Kris. It didn’t match the wild ride her own stomach was taking.

Who was the “us” Sandfire included in his plots? To kill a kid! Eddy? She was damn proud she’d saved her Marine platoon from landing in a minefield. She was even prouder to have messed up Commodore Sampson’s taking AttackRon Six out of the Wardhaven battle line to spark a war between Earth and Wardhaven. For all those and what Sandfire had done to Tom and Penny and was trying to do to the people of Turantic, he deserved to die.

Now he put poor dead Eddy at the head of his list.