Sandy had called all the guilty parties to what they might think of as a meeting, but she considered an Admiral’s Mast. She knew that legally, she had no control over the civilians. Still, none of them had offered a way out of this mess. They knew that Sandy commanded the Navy forces in this system. She might not have the legal authority to settle this, but she certainly had the de facto power.
She also knew that using that power was a losing proposition.
Pushing powerful people like these around might work for a bit, but it would be a disaster in the long run. Every time a military junta tried its hand at running an economy, it rapidly went to the dogs.
Like the dang cats, she needed to pet some humans’ fur just the right way or they’d scratch her to ribbons. The problem was, what exactly could she do to pet them and get them all happy again?
How had Kris Longknife done it for four years?
After as much reflection as the trip in from Jump Point Alpha allowed, Sandy had decided to put on a show that just might intimidate everyone into resolving this problem as a group rather than make Sandy lay down the law.
“Computer, contact Captain Penny Pasley.”
“Yes, Admiral,” her computer answered in a voice amazingly like Penny’s.
“Could you please have your computer expand my day quarters into the tribunal chambers we discussed? Tell Mimzy I want this room as intimidating as possible.”
“Mimzy says you might want to stand up, ma’am.”
Sandy did, and watched as the Smart MetalTM of her desk and chair melted into the floor. Everything that was on it or in it folded into a box and disappeared into the wall behind her. That wall, as well as two others, moved away from her quickly enough to weird her out a bit. It did, however, make the room much larger. The deck was now covered with a lush blue carpet while all four bulkheads and the overhead suddenly transformed into a direct view of the star-studded space around them. The deck now appeared to float in the vacuum of space.
The view was enough to take your breath away, if not give you vertigo.
In the middle of the room a large mahogany wood conference table rose from the carpet. It looked to weigh a ton. Sandy rapped it with her knuckle as she strode carefully up to it. It felt solid even though she suspected it was all hollow.
Such was the magic of Smart MetalTM.
Comfortable chairs of wood and leather began to also rise from the deck. One single chair at each of the long ends and another one in the middle with its back to the door. Sandy went to the long end that let her face the door. She settled into a comfortable chair that had just appeared there.
“Computer, tell the chief to bring them in.”
A moment later, a chief yeoman opened the door and admitted a line of silent people.
Captain Penny Pasley led them in. She was Sandy’s Chief of Alien Intel and general advisor, helping Sandy adapt to all the alien cultures she had been dumped in . . . including both the bird Alwans and the Colonials. She moved quickly to join Sandy.
A chair rose from the deck for her at Sandy’s right elbow.
That was the second reason for having Penny in this meeting. Her computer, Mimzy by name, was one of Kris Longknife’s Magnificent Nelly’s children. Offspring of a sentient computer, Mimzy was a great help when it came to moving Smart MetalTM around. Sandy’s computer might make a hatch open in a bulkhead or several types of standard chairs appear. However, it took the artistry of a Nelly-level computer to create something like what now surrounded Sandy.
PENNY, Sandy said on Nelly Net, a computer to computer communication device that gave humans a near telepathic ability to communicate around Nelly’s kids, I NEED THE DECREE AND THE STRIKE ORDER. I LEFT THEM IN MY DESK AND ITS CONTENTS SEEM TO HAVE VANISHED WITH IT.
A moment later, without a word spoken aloud, the two items appeared on the conference table in front of Sandy.
THANKS.
Behind Penny came Vice Admiral Benson, the commander of Sandy’s base force. It was the work of his yards to repair damaged ships, and, in their spare time, to spin together new battlecruisers faster and better than any yard back home in human space.
It was also an important portion of his workforce that had downed tools and headed for the nearest bar. Strange, Sandy had seen no picket signs, but then, when everyone is on strike, picket signs don’t add much to the conversation.
The admiral stepped around the table and a chair rose for him a bit away from Sandy’s left elbow.
Following directly behind him came Admiral Kitano. Like Kris Longknife before her, Sandy was using her as her vice commander and had left her in command of all Navy forces in the Alwa system when she went off to her confab with the cats. Kitano had been more than a bit embarrassed to have to report this mess to Sandy on her return. Sandy had assured her that she didn’t consider this situation her fault.
It’s not like all this crazy civilian carrying on could be put to rest by locking them in the brig and feeding them bread and water.
Amber took her place at Sandy’s immediate left.
Now came the primary culprits.
Each had asked to bring a coterie of advisors to give themselves their own peanut gallery. Sandy had squelched that. She wanted them and them alone. If they couldn’t stand the pressure, the sooner they folded, the sooner good people could get back to work.
However, Sandy seriously doubted any of these three would fold under any pressure she could provide. They were tough. If they weren’t, most likely they would have died long ago.
A gray-haired woman, who might have been a young fifty but Sandy knew was a rejuvenate hundred plus, came in next. A look into her steel gray eyes told you all you needed to know about how hard those years had been.
The old woman had worn many names; Rita Nuu-Longknife as a bride, Commodore Longknife as commander of BatCruRon 16 during the Iteeche War. When the survivors of her ships washed up on Alwa, they managed to talk the birds into giving them the chance to scratch out their subsistence on land the birds thought worthless. The Commodore had led them through the starving years, giving hard orders that she had not been reluctant to back up with a hangman’s noose.
While the later generations fondly called her Granny Rita, those she led then remembered her as a hard, demanding task master. She’d earned their respect, but rarely their love.
At the moment, Rita was Downside Viceroy for Planetary Affairs. It had seemed like such a good idea to Sandy to split one of the jobs that Kris Longknife had held between herself and Rita.
Now? Not so good.
Rita gave Sandy a nod, then strode to the end of the table on Sandy’s right and settled into the chair. She leaned forward, elbows on the table, fingers meshed together loosely in front of her. Her body was still, but it was the stillness of a tightly wound spring. Her face – well, an Iteeche invasion force had died before that face.
Behind her came Ada, the First Minister of the Alwa Colonial government. It was her job now to keep things running smoothly among the human Colonials. Clearly, from the grimace on her face, she counted responsibility for the present imbroglio as partially hers.
Sandy didn’t doubt that one bit. How could she have allowed something as important as a vague clause to slip into a Viceroy’s Warrant without her notice?
Ada glanced at the two chairs left at the table. Sandy raised a finger ever so slightly to point at the chair directly across from her. The head of government blanched, but she took the chair allotted for her.
The last civilian to enter Sandy’s court of inquiry was a tall, black-haired woman of chocolate complexion. She didn’t so much as glance around at the setup and view. She, like Penny, had one of Nelly’s children for a computer. She also had spent the last five years or so bouncing around space at Kris Longknife’s elbow – and lived to tell the tales.
Abby Nightingale was nobody’s fool. So, how had she come to this? No doubt, Sandy would know soon enough.
Abby gave Sandy a formal nod, then headed for her place, the last remaining chair, the one at the opposite end of the table from Rita. She also settled into the chair, but unlike Rita, she relaxed comfortably into it. The former maid even allowed herself to gawk at the room.
Sandy hoped all of these culprits were getting a good look at where they were.