Intrepid

So a recon bird was knocked together and launched a few hours later. It flew about a hundred kilometers off the Wasp's port bow, reporting what it saw of the rapidly growing planet.

Thorpe was rude enough to try jamming, but that was only expected. The scout was a lot closer to the Wasp and continued to do its reporting, switching codes at irregular intervals.

Abby provided the codes with only a slight arm twist from Kris. ''These are from my private supply,'' the maid pointed out.

''No doubt,'' Kris said. ''And, what with all the codes up your sleeve, you can rotate these to the bottom of the deck and bring them out sometime when they'll be long forgotten. Give.''

Abby gave, grumbled a bit, and said she needed to attend to Cara's education. However, Cara was much more interested in staying underfoot, watching the goings-on of the bridge crew and the approaching moon. Neither the maid nor the twelve-year-old managed to slip out of Kris's peripheral vision.

Soon Kris would have to make some hard decisions.

The planet stayed silent. As the occupied section slipped past evening into solid night, it stayed both radio silent and dark. Not so much as a flickering campfire lit up the bleakness!

Captain Thorpe fell into silence, too, as it became clear that Kris was not about to wear ship from her closing course. He continued steady in his low orbit. Which left Kris to wonder just why he was making no reply to her change in approach. The answer to that might be trailing him by fifty kilometers.

''It appears to be an underpowered merchant ship,'' Chief Beni said, looking pained that something might actually be just what it looked to be. ''Reactor isn't good for more than .85 gees. Tanks are too small for more than a couple of jumps.''

Kris's brother Honovi had asked her opinion when he got the assignment in Parliament of writing new safety regs for Wardhaven's merchant fleet. The less ship and more cargo that a merchant hull moved, the better the profit margin. Over-powerful engines and excessive reaction mass ate into that bottom line.

Grampa Al had led the business interests that pushed for trimming the standards to allow for ships that had just enough range to make it from one port of call to another. ''Stations sell mass. Why ship water from one station to another?''

''How quickly people forgot that not all planets out on the Rim have stations.'' Kris had tried to make a joke of it.

Grampa Al had roared back, ''Don't tell a businessman how to run his business. Short-range ships for short runs. Long-range ships for longer runs! We're smart enough to send what we need to earn a good return.'' And he'd won the day.

Now Kris found herself looking at a short-range ship far off the beaten path. It should be Thorpe's problem. But his problem could become hers in a hurry. Would he load it with transportees from Panda and haul them off to Presley? Or had it brought in a boatload of thugs to Panda to rechristen it Presley and remind them who now owned the sweat of their brows?

But whatever bee was in Thorpe's bonnet, it was clear Kris would have two separate battles on her hands. One on the ground for her Marines and one in orbit for the Wasp.

Question? Which had the strongest call on a Longknife?

And where did she put several dozen scientists and one twelve-year-old girl? Kris didn't see any easy answers, so she settled on asking questions. ''Sulwan, how should we handle the final approach?''

''Interesting you should ask,'' the navigator said, with a happy grin. ''I've got a really nifty idea.''

Kris had hardly got ''let's see it,'' out of her mouth before Sulwan was showing it to Kris on the main screen.

''Assuming your former captain doesn't mess with his orbit any more than he is now, we head in past the moon about the time he heads behind Panda.'' The screen showed just that.

''Now, we could keep braking like good, predictable fools and end up coming in with our tail to him his entire next time around. That's a temptation it would take a saint to resist shooting at. Your old boss any kind of saint?''

Kris shook her head sourly.

''I kind of thought so. What do you say we go to high-gee stations, slap on 2.24 gees, and put ourselves in orbit around that large and no doubt lovely moon?'' The screen showed them doing a swing around the face of the moon toward Panda and heading back on a high elliptical orbit that had the benefit of putting them behind the moon about the time Thorpe came around Panda. He might catch a glimpse, but not much before they disappeared again.

''Now this orbit is hardly one we'll stay in,'' Sulwan said. ''I figure we cut it short with more high gees, and about the time he's headed back behind Panda, we make a dash for Panda ourselves.'' The screen showed them coming in high and fast, but out of sight of Thorpe before doing more hard maneuvering in orbit to settle themselves sedately down in the same orbit as the old captain, but 180 degrees away from him. As far as night and day was for the planet.