getting any chatter on the communication circuits,” Chief Beni reported with a frown. “And I’m getting neutrino emissions from what looks like two ships in orbit over Panda.”
“We’ve never had more than one freighter show up a year,” Andy Fronour said from the jump seat he occupied on the bridge. “How could there be two now?”
“We’ll have to wait until we establish communications,” Kris said. “At this distance, there’s an hour lag time between us saying anything and them answering back.”
Thirty minutes later, the main screen on the bridge opened up with full visuals. Kris knew at first glance things were not good. Staring at her in the impeccable uniform of a merchant captain was Captain William Tacoma Thorpe, former commander of the Patrol Corvette Typhoon , and, given a choice between early retirement and a court-martial, formally of the Wardhaven Navy.
“What is he doing here?” was Kris’s first question.
Nothing good, had to be the first answer.
“Unidentified freighter, there is no business here for you. Sheer off and do not approach Presley’s Pride.”
Kris mashed the kill-screen button.
“Presley’s Pride?” Fronour said, leaping from his jump seat. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet with that name.”
“Apparently there is now,” Kris said, and filled them in on who was talking to them.
Captain Drago didn’t seem surprised. He did want to make sure he got it right “He was your first skipper in the Navy.” Kris agreed that he was. “And he ended up retiring out of the Navy in lieu of a full court-martial.” Kris agreed he did.
“Explains why I get such interesting looks at the bar when I admit skippering your ship,” Drago said, rubbing his chin.
“Stay on my good side,” Kris suggested.
“What happened?” Drago said, very serious now.
“You’re not authorized that information,” Jack told him.
“But I sure would like to hear the story,” Abby put in.
“If she told you, I’d have to kill you,” Jack said.
“You and what army?” Abby said, with a toothy smile.
“Me and my Marines.”
“Might be interesting to see who’d be the last one standing.”
“Folks,” Kris cut in, “I think we have a full to-do list for today. Could we put a rousing good intramural fight off until we have some free time?”
“We never have any free time,” Abby complained.
“Considering what you do with it, is it any wonder I keep you busy?” Kris said.
“Ah, folks, what do we tell this former associate of our princess?” Drago asked. “In about an hour we’ll be getting a new message from him, one showing his surprise at once more crossing paths with his well-remembered subordinate.”
“You’re the captain,” Kris noted.
“I feel a sudden case of laryngitis coming on,” Drago said.
“Take a pill, quick,” Kris said.
The captain shook his head. “Sorry, my princess, but this is not the part I signed on for. I and my crew will support you fully, but this,” he said, with an expressive shrug, “is a matter for ‘one of those Longknifes.’ ”
Well, gal, you did want to have all the fun, didn’t you, that nagging little voice in the back of Kris’s head said.
Yeah, but I was so looking forward to exploring. Who’d have expected Captain Thorpe to be here ahead of me.
Afraid to face your old captain? Scared he’ll buffalo you like he did last time? Kris took a deep breath. Yes, he’d run her ragged, but she’d come up for air. . . and then she’d changed everything. She was the one still serving. He was the one out.
Kris unsnapped her station-chair restraint and went to stand squarely in front of the forward screen.
“Chief, how long before something comes back from Thorpe?”
“Five, maybe ten minutes, ma’am.”
“Tell me before you put it on-screen.”
Captain Thorpe did not keep her waiting. Five minutes later, Chief Beni announced, “A new message is coming in.”
Kris squared her back, schooled
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