to get my mind around it. To have something to say. My first guess is that whoever we are dealing with here really hates or is terrified of the strange. They could be the most xenophobic population of conquer-or-die types we’ve ever dreamed of. Worse than our worst fictional imaginings. There is, of course, a second possibility.”
“What worse option could a Longknife come up with?” Admiral Channing of the businesslike Helviticans asked.
“We’ve never seen a ship like the one they had,” Kris said, having Nelly flash back on the screen the best picture they had of the alien ship. “I’m unaware of any ships in human or Iteeche space that are strung together from conjoined spheres.”
Many in the room nodded.
“Could there be someone else out here? Someone who builds spaceships very much similar to the way we build ours? Could that someone be so nasty that our grandfather here did not hesitate for a moment to kill his beloved kids and grandkids rather than risk the chance of them falling under their control?”
Once again, Kris had succeeded in bringing the room to absolute silence.
She let it stay that way, so the two options could sink in, before opening her arms in a question. “Does anyone see a third option?”
The question hung in the air for a very long minute. No one came up with another way of looking at the data.
After a long pause, Admiral Krätz stood. “I hope you’ll excuse me if I change the topic. But what will you do with the Constant Star’s load of wreckage and bodies?”
“I’m sending it back to Santa Maria with the Mercury. Santa Maria has a major research center devoted to trying to unravel the mystery of the Three alien races who built the star jumps. That looks like a good place to handle the further examination of what we have here.”
The newly Imperial admiral from Greenfeld glowered at Kris. “And what is to keep those ships and their cargo from vanishing before they ever get to Santa Maria? How will we know that they have not been hijacked off to some secret U.S. base where no one but Royal experts ever look at them and never tell us a word about what they find?”
At that, the room exploded with words.
13
Kris allowed herself a deep sigh; she hadn’t seen that one coming.
This voyage had its problems, but everyone had stayed focused on why they were there. The alien encounter had thrown them a wild twist. They had come looking for surprises and had, up until a second ago, been doing a fairly good job of juggling the strange.
Then again. The Fleet of Discovery hadn’t had anything to fight over.
Silly me.
Now we’ve got our familiar baggage on the table, and it’s back to business as usual.
The Greenfeld admiral stayed on his feet as the room boiled around him, then he raised his voice to boom above the racket. “I intend to detach my battleship, the Terror, to escort the Constant Star. That will make sure some ‘pirate’ doesn’t make off with it and its cargo.”
At that, the room really got noisy.
Admiral Channing shot to his feet. “So it can vanish into one of Emperor Harry’s secret bases. No you don’t. I’m going with it.”
The Helvitican Confederacy had held a vote to see if they should join King Raymond’s United whatever. Grampa Ray had lost resoundingly. Kris figured the Confederacy didn’t much like what Grampa Ray was doing.
Then again, they hadn’t even bothered to vote on joining the Greenfeld Alliance. That was understandable since Chance, the last planet to join the Confederacy, had just barely avoided being violently taken over by a Peterwald.
Kris’s help and a lot of spilled blood had left Chance free to choose its own way in human space. They’d chosen the Helvitican Confederacy and, it seemed, the Confederacy remembered why.
Kris held up her hands to try to gain some quiet to think. “Hold it. Hold it. HOLD IT.” The volume of her voice jumped as Nelly jacked it up artificially.
The room quieted down though it was nowhere close to silent.
“Okay. I see we humans have a trust problem. Admiral Krätz, I can understand your wanting to make sure the Constant Star gets where it’s going. I want to make sure it gets where it’s going.”
Admiral Kōta jumped in. “And where might that be?”
“Santa Maria,” Kris snapped. “Specifically, the Institute for Alien Research.” Kris knew of the place. It had been established almost as soon as Grampa Ray got back from