that lost colony. For the last ninety years, it had been humanity’s cutting edge at researching exactly who and what were the Three alien species who had built the jump points across the galaxy. Two million years ago, they had vanished.
On Santa Maria, the Three had built some sort of adult learning center. When they left, they forgot to turn it off. Apparently, the artificial intelligence running the place had gone senescent in the two million years during which it had no students. What it would have done to the several million peaceful citizens of Santa Maria when it discovered them was something Kris didn’t want to contemplate.
Grampa Ray and a handful of veterans from the recent Unity War had been there, thank heavens, when the AI and the Santa Marians discovered each other. As Grampa Ray liked to say: “One supercomputer. One company of Marines. Betterthan-even odds for my side.”
“The Institute for Alien Research has the best human minds available for unraveling aliens,” Kris said. “Most of your governments have universities with visiting professors at the Institute.”
“Isn’t it run by a Longknife? Ray’s sister?” Vicky said.
“Aunt Alnaba transferred to the efforts on Alien 1,” Kris said. “I think a professor from Earth has taken her place.”
“Dr. Ernst Kanaka,” Professor mFumbo put in. “A very good man. Wrote the paper about what we think we know about the Three’s power system.”
“And what happens after the wreckage reaches Santa Maria?” Admiral Kōta asked.
“I honestly don’t know, Admiral. But it has been my experience,” Kris went on, “that once scientists get to chewing on a problem, they fight like wolves to keep it.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” the professor said in clear disapproval of Kris’s analogy. “However, I do think the Institute would be open for visits from a large collection of scientists. That is the way it has operated.”
“Isn’t Santa Maria kind of vulnerable, hanging out there alone, halfway around the galaxy?” Vicky asked.
“A third of the way around from human and Iteeche space,” Kris corrected. “And fifteen thousand light-years from here. Looks to me like it’s the safest place to be right now.”
From the way heads nodded and shook, it was clear Kris was not going to get any consensus on that. Then again, she didn’t need any consensus. She just needed to get the Constant Star’s load of wreckage off her hands and her fleet back to doing what it was out there to do. Discover.
“Let’s see, Admiral Krätz, you want to send the Terror back to Santa Maria.”
“Yes.” You’re not going to change my mind hung there with the single-word answer.
“Admiral Channing, you would like to have one of your battle cruisers in the escort. What about you, Admiral Kōta?”
“Admiral Channing and I only have two ships each. We can’t both afford to send separate escorts.”
The two admirals flipped for the privilege of sending a ship along with the Terror. Channing lost. Or won. Anyway, the Triumph would fly wing on the Constant Star.
Which left Kris’s royals the least represented.
The Constant Star was a late addition to the Helvitican Fleet. Even though it was leased at Wardhaven, Kris knew nothing of the captain and crew. Just as bad, the Mercury was a recently captured pirate schooner crewed from the Wardhaven, er U.S. Navy. Still, the captain and crew were a blank to her.
“Commander Taussig,” Kris said.
“Right here, Your Highness,” Phil said, standing from where the other skippers of PatRon 10 were over near the bar. The other ships of the squadron were dry, just like the rest of the fleet.
The Wasp, however, was different. With its mixed crew of civilians and service personnel, there were several contractormanaged restaurants and public rooms. Kris had never felt the need to place those watering holes off-limits to any of her crew. Indeed, she’d often used the Forward Lounge for semiofficial purposes, just like now.
Most of the visiting Navy folks had taken advantage of the bar already; her skippers were no exception.
“Phil, I got a job for you.”
“Mother of God help me.”
Kris smiled at his reply but went ahead with her orders. “Please form a detail from the Hornet and establish a Royal presence on the Constant Star. I’m holding you personally responsible for seeing that everything on that tub is turned over to the Institute for Alien Studies.”
Phil nodded. “You got an inventory for me?”
“Yes, we do, Kris,” Nelly reported, “though it’s kind of vague in several places.”
“Understood. Pass it to Phil.”
“I’ve got it, Commander,” he said in a moment.
That settled one