45
“Sulwan, take her smartly down to one gee,” Captain Drago ordered. “Get her out of this merry-go-round mode as soon as you can, but take the pressure off the reactors and engines first.”
“Engineering says we need to take the power down slowly,” Sulwan answered. “Everything is so hot down there that if we go too cold too quickly, something may snap.”
“Then you tell Engineering that it’s her call. We slow down when she says we slow down. Just tell her that the bridge would like to be included in any idle rumors coming out of that den of thieves.”
“Roger, sir.”
Captain Drago now turned to his next-most-important issue. “Chief, I don’t care where we are, but I sure would like to know if this system has a gas giant, a gas dwarf, an icy planet, or any other place we might find reaction mass.”
“That’s what I’ve been hunting for, sir,” the chief answered.
“We’re still in the Milky Way,” Nelly reported. “I think we jumped about a quarter of the way around the rim. We may very well have to go through Iteeche space to get back to human space, but they are both still a long way off.”
“Any activity in the system?” Kris asked.
“Other than three suns radiating their hearts away, nothing,” the chief said, then went on. “Skipper, there are three gas giants in the system. We’re closest to the smallest of the three.”
“Give Sulwan the course, and let’s get going.”
“Are we actually going to go cloud dancing with the Wasp?” the chief asked.
“It’s either that or we get out and push the Wasp home,” Captain Drago grumbled. “I don’t know about you, but I vote for refueling.”
“Can she hold together?” squeaked the chief.
“Now that she’s gotten rid of most of those crates that add weight and mess up her lines, of course the old lady can. But just to be on the safe side, we’ll park the rest of them in orbit and muster all hands in the hull spindle, okay, Chief? That worry you less?”
“I guess so.”
“Now, folks,” the skipper went on, “we’re going to be very busy in a couple of days doing the kind of work that makes hands blister, so why don’t you all take this time to catch up on your rest . . . and get out of my hair.”
Kris gave the rest of the bridge crew a good example by powering back her high-gee station, but she couldn’t close her eyes. Now if an alien did shoot through the jump, there would be no more running. True, the Wasp would put up the best fight she could, but it would be a short one.
Kris watched her board and watched the chief watch his. Nothing showed up as the time went long. Kris found her eyes growing heavy; the battle had taken its toll.
NELLY, CAN YOU KEEP A WATCH OUT FOR HOSTILES? Kris asked.
THE CHIEF HAS HIS DA VINCI COVERING FOR HIM, TOO, Nelly answered. IF YOU FALL ASLEEP, I’LL WAKE YOU IF THINGS GET INTERESTING. GO AHEAD. THE SKIPPER SAID SLEEP. DO IT.
Apparently, Kris did manage to nap. The next thing she heard was Sulwan’s announcement to all hands, “We’re down to 1.5 gees, folks. You can quit lounging around in your high-gee stations.”
Kris found she needed a hand up, which the young 2/c gunner’s mate who backed her up on weapons was only too ready to supply.
Kris headed for the head, which put her third in line for the facilities. A stuttering young ensign was only too willing to offer Kris her place in line, but Kris didn’t need to go that desperately, quite, and she figured if she did, the story about one of those damn Longknifes pulling rank to get to the head of the head line would be around the ship before she was out of the stall.
She waited like her father had taught her to do, as any good politician’s child better do.
Chow that night was steaks, more stuff scrounged from the now-long-gone restaurants from the good old days. Cookie let everyone know they better enjoy his chow while they could, it would be wormy hardtack and salt pork before this cruise was over.
Kris hoped it wouldn’t be that bad, but she didn’t contradict the old cook. Something told her he knew more about maintaining morale than she was likely to ever learn.
Despite the nap, Kris found herself falling asleep at the wardroom table. She managed to stumble to her quarters and fall into bed still dressed.
Exactly when the nightmares came, it was hard to tell, but she came awake screaming and covered in sweat at 0200 ship time. For the next two hours visions of ships dying held her hostage as they ran over and over in her mind’s eye.
When sleep finally returned, it was hardly less exhausting than wakefulness.