''Some people might consider it just such a state secret,'' Captain Krätz said, with a chuckle and a glance at the young woman he was escorting. ''But a look at the ship you escorted in tells me that both our planets are likely concerned about the same matter. How did that freighter come to be so shot up?''
''I'm afraid that I did it,'' Kris said, not quite succeeding at looking bashful. That only got her raised eyebrows from both the captain and the ensign.
''It fired on the
''Just like you did to my brother,'' Victoria Peterwald shot back.
''Ensign, we talked about that,'' the captain said, giving warning.
Kris shook her head. ''Excuse me, Captain, if you will,'' Kris said, ''Ensign Peterwald and I need to get this out in the open. She may never agree with me, but she needs to hear my side.'' Kris turned her full attention to Victoria.
''You killed my brother just like you did that freighter crew,'' Vicky got in first.
''I was involved in your brother's death, but not ‘just like' those people on the pirate's bridge.''
Vicky's mouth was half-open, a retort already coming, but with a glance at the glower on her captain's face, she bit it off and shut her mouth.
''Your brother had my ship on the ropes. It was his ship and crew or mine. I fired six-inch lasers, aimed for his engines, not bridge. His evasion actions, or maybe it was just dumb luck, put his bridge where we were aiming.
''On his ship, every crewman had a survival pod. We did not find a single one on that pirate ship. When I opened up their bridge, they were all doomed. Most of their bodies were blown out into space.
''On your brother's ship, they all activated their survival pods. With the exception of your brother's, they all worked. His didn't. Consider that.''
Kris paused. She studied the beautiful blue eyes across from her. Tried to measure the acceptance, the comprehension in them. It didn't look like much, but there was some.
''There is one more thing I can add, though I doubt if anyone in my government will back me up.''
''What is that?'' Captain Krätz asked.
''If it's not a state secret, could you tell me what were the series numbers of the survival pods on the
''The
Kris nodded. ''The defective pods on the battleships we fought at Wardhaven all had a 90000 series identifier. Do you know what was the number on Hank's pod?''
Both Krätz and Vicky shook their heads in silence.
''I have a picture of his pod. I could show it to you now, but I won't.'' Hank's body was still in the pod. That was one picture Kris did not want to show Vicky. There were still pictures from poor Eddy's kidnapping that Kris had never seen. Would never see.
''Do you know Hank's survival pod number?'' Vicky asked.
''Ninety-seven thousand, five hundred, and twelve,'' Kris said.
''Holy Mother of God,'' Captain Krätz muttered.
''That's impossible,'' Vicky said.
Kris rolled her hand, palm up on the table. ''My computer has all the photos taken on my space station of your brother's pod, both before it was opened and after. Several of them clearly show the pod number. Do you know the pod number on your battle station, Ensign?'' Kris asked.
The woman looked at her captain. ''Yes I do.''
''I also know mine,'' the captain said. ''And it's nowhere near a ninety thousand.''
''Why was I never told this?'' Vicky demanded.
Now it was her captain's turn to roll his hands open, palms up.
''Do you believe her?'' Vicky spat.
The captain was silent for a long minute. ''There is talk, late at night, in the back rooms of private clubs,'' he said slowly. ''Some in the Navy wonder. Some in the Navy remember Ralf Baja and Bhutta Saris and wonder why they're not around anymore. The Navy is not that big a place, and you can't have the crews of six super battleships vanish without them being missed. So, yes, ma'am, if you had to pick between the words of a woman who, just as cool as could be, shot out a pirate's bridge, and the babbling of a political officer, whom would you trust?''
A waiter appeared, kept his distance until several sets of guards waved him forward, then took orders from only those at Kris's table. He had been well briefed and left quickly.
''I don't believe you,'' Vicky whispered, when the waiter was well gone.
''Care to tell me why?'' Kris asked.
''Let's say my dad's Navy just tried to pound your planet into rubble. Let's say you were decorated for stopping them. How many friends did you lose?''
''A lot,'' Kris said evenly.
''And yet, you are sitting here talking to me, my captain here. Eating dinner with us. No. You're lying.''
Kris nodded slowly. ''How much history have you studied?''
''Quite a bit,'' Vicky claimed.
