"D on't everyone talk at once," Kris said a full minute later.
It was Grampa Trouble who ventured into the silence. "Let me see if I've got this right, Kris. You want your convoy to run the blockade, a blockade backed up with armored fighting vehicles who will have no problem firing on you, because you're the one that gets the bill for it all."
"I think that pretty much sums it up," Kris said, then added, "Nelly, review your plans for lifting the castle out of here. If this goes ass over teakettle, we may need to make a run for it real fast."
"I'm glad to know you have a good grasp on what failure will mean to this operation," Jack said, drolly.
"Failure is not my preferred result," Kris said.
"It never is," Abby interrupted dryly.
"So, how do we take out the opposition without blowing up huge swaths of stuff between the space elevator station and here?" Kris repeated her objective.
"Mines are nice," Granny Trouble said. "If we could get mines onto the ground either in front of the gun cars or in the intersections, that could put a monkey wrench in their plans."
"Mines have a tendency to hang around after you don't need them anymore," Abby pointed out.
"However," Kris said, "we could time them to deactivate by, say, Oh five hundred this morning."
"You're being an optimist, my admiral wife," Jack said. "Some kids are bound to find them and start playing with them."
"Yeah, kids do the darndest things," Abby said, with her usual dry wit.
"Okay, we don't mine the streets," Kris said.
"Why not mine the vehicles?" Nelly asked.
Kris frowned in thought for a moment. "Do we know where the rigs are the most vulnerable?"
"They are all using the basic model 4c 4x4 Smart Metal armored gun car," Nelly said. "Assuming you don't want to kill a lot of Iteeche, there are still several weak points where a few grams of explosives could render the vehicles inoperative."
"For example?" Kris asked.
"If we cut the power line from the batteries to the motor, it goes nowhere," Jack said.
"Unfortunately," Nelly said, "the batteries and the motor are all within the armored citadel. We'd need nanos to infiltrate the air supply and that takes time."
Kris shook her head. "We need to do this quickly."
"Is the primary differential inside?" Jack asked. "If that sucker stops working, it goes nowhere."
"True," Nelly agreed. "However, the differential has big gears and is inside a strong casing. You'll need more explosives."
"And that takes time," Jack grumbled.
"Okay, Nelly," Kris said, "you designed the blasted armored gun car. How would you disable it?"
"Does it have to look disabled immediately, or can it only fail when they try to go somewhere?" the computer asked.
"Either's fine by me," Kris said. The humans around her nodded.
"What if we blew the ball bushing in the rack and pinion steering? Only when they started to go would they find the steering not responding."
Kris considered the idea for a long moment, the said, "Not a bad idea, Nelly. Can you start moving explosive-laden drones out to the area? We can figure out how to break the load down to just the right size when we get there."
"Kris, I began fashioning flying drones and giving each a payload of a few kilograms as soon as we began this conversation. Now, how do we want to deliver the explosives once we get them a few blocks out? We can convert them to nanos and fly them in, but that will take more time. Do you think we could get away with converting the drone into tiny, three-wheeled vehicles and running them in under the rigs?"
"We can review your plan if problems develop," Kris said. "For now, Nelly, make it so."
"Just one thought," Jack said. "Not to delay what Nelly's doing, but if we just blow a couple of balls in the steering gear, what's to keep the troops from just repairing the things? They are Smart Metal. Can't they just reform the armored vehicles with the remaining Smart Metal and be good to go?"
"Admiral Tong?" Kris asked, tossing Jack's question to him.
"I do not think so, Good General," the Iteeche admiral said. "Among my own battalions, I doubt there is more than one trooper per platoon with the authority and programming skill to rebuild a vehicle. I seriously doubt that there is a single Iteeche among those troopers with the programming authority or control to reprogram those vehicles. Most likely, each clan's Guard Force has one, maybe two with the authority, skills, and tools to create the standard vehicles. I'm not sure any of them could remake them in the field."
"Let's work on the assumption the good Admiral is correct," Kris said.
The first carrier drones began landing on the streets two or three away from the parked columns of threatening gun cars. Quickly, they transformed themselves into low-slung tri-wheeled rigs, camouflaged to blend in with the pavement. They were soon sweeping forward in waves, taking advantage of what cover the streets provided.
Gramma Trouble shook her head. "If they were humans, they'd be out of their rigs, walking around, smoking, maybe taking a piss. Instead, they huddle inside."
"None of them would dare do that without an order," Admiral Tong said, "and no clan lordling would do anything that might make him look bad in his superior's eyes. Certainly not for the comfort of his lowborn troops."
Now Grampa Trouble shook his head. "Where's the infantry? These armored guys have their heads so up in their turrets that they can't see or hear our little rats skittering toward them. Why do tank guys always think they don't need us gravel crunchers?"
"That is also Marine doctrine," Admiral Tong put in. "However, many of the clan forces are under the command of fifth or sixth chosen of a fifth or sixth chosen. They want to rise above their station in the clan, not study how to better use their forces. When clans clash with clans, it is usually a bloody mess with the deep-sea devil taking the hind most. Now, these amateurs face real soldiers. This song will be sung for a thousand years, and everyone will laugh. I will make sure the bards get the correct clans for their songs."
Kris would delay the song making until the sun came up.
Unseen, but reported on, the small-wheeled remotes rolled under the Iteeche gun cars. Quickly, an arm rose from the center of the toy-like rig. A few centigrams of explosive were put in place, along with a command and control commlink, then the remote moved on to another wheel assembly. When one car was done, it slid down the line to the next one and began preparing it for a minor misadventure.
Once a remote had exhausted its supply of explosives, it went to ground, flat against the pavement and awaited further orders. Slabs of Smart MetalTM could be very patient. Much more patient than the Iteeche clan guardsmen above them.
When the final vehicle was sabotaged, some thirty minutes had passed since Kris gave the order. Now she gave the next order.
"Admiral Tong, order the supply convoy to make for the embassy at best speed."
"To hear is to obey, Most Eminent Admiral."
Now the die was cast. Kris still had a few aces up her sleeve. She watched and waited to see if she would have to play them all.