Intrepid

''Don't you dare erase that, Nelly,'' came Abby on net. ''You hold on to that file. You can never tell when it might come in handy. Who knows what kind of mess it could get us out of.''

Around Kris on the bridge, chuckles were breaking out. Small ones, to be sure, since everyone carried three and a half times their normal weight; still, the argument between a princess, her pet computer, and her maid had to at least match the best the comic net had to offer.

''Abby, I do not even want to think what kind of mess those words might get us out of. Nelly, I want that file vanished.''

''Yes, ma'am. I am erasing that file,'' Nelly said.

''Good,'' Kris said, and started to nod. Then she remembered her present weight and canceled the nod. And on further reflection, she wondered if she should never have said that ''good.'' Nelly erased ''that'' file. Not ''the'' file. And certainly no mention of all backup files. There had been a bit of a lag in the whole conversation. Had Nelly been conferring with another young lady, full of all of twelve years of wisdom?

Kris let out a sigh. Not a big one worthy of Tommy's Irish ancestors. Just a small one, like a dog's pant.

She needed one twelve-year-old off her boat!

But first. ''Thorpe's ship is behind Panda,'' Kris said. ''He probably got a glance at us as we got of him. Now we see what we can do about putting one princess and Marine company where they want to be.''

15

Captain Thorpe was livid. He had all his lasers charged and nothing to shoot full of holes. ''Where's my target?''

''There is no ship anywhere in the space between the moon and our orbit. Nothing to target, sir,'' Weapons reported.

''There's got to be a target,'' Thorpe snapped, searching the forward screen. ''There has to be.''

''Sir,'' Weapons asked, ''could she have done another burn and ducked behind the moon again. Or done more than three gees on her approach to orbit?''

''Not possible, or at least not probable,'' Thorpe said, forcing his mind to adjust to what his eyes told him.

''Sir, Sensors here. I've got a rapidly dissipating trail of reaction mass.''

''Show me,'' Thorpe growled.

A glowing yellow cloud blazed a trail between the moon and Pandemonium on the forward screen.

''Can you estimate the gee forces that reaction mass would generate on a ship the size we saw on approach?''

''Ah, considering that it got them from the moon to orbit without us getting a single peek at them, I'd say they must have pulled at least 3.5 gees. Sir, I'd also say that the ship is heavier than us by a factor of fifty percent.''

Someone on the bridge began a soft whistle. Thorpe whipped his head around, and the noise died. ''They said they're carrying containers for this lost corner of the boondocks. So they're heavy. Doesn't say a thing about their combat load. We've got two eighteen-inch lasers and a second pair of 4.7-inch long guns. They are an exploration ship. She should have run when she could.''

Heads nodded with him.

''Sensors, get me a full updated scan of this planet. Next orbit, one Princess Kris Longknife will be stumbling around down there, looking for a hairdresser. Let's make sure she gets dressed up right.''

''Yes, sir.''

* * *

Kris ached in every muscle of her body. ''What a great way to start a fight,'' she softly muttered to herself as she glided in full battle rattle for the drop bay of the Wasp.

Doc, the Wasp's erstwhile medical support, had set up shop just outside the drop bay's hatch. As Kris approached him, he handed her two small pills.

''What are these?'' Kris demanded. She'd quit taking anything handed her at twelve … and was much the better for it.

''Just a pain reliever. And don't tell me Sulwan's joyride didn't leave you aching in every bone you got, Princess.''

Kris took the pills with a swig from her suit's water while she surveyed the organized confusion of her drop bay. In addition to the four LACs, Jack had managed to cram in both of the lighters Drago had leased. Those two held empty transport containers, which Marines were stoically climbing aboard and improvising ways to strap themselves down to.

''You going to fly the lead LAC?'' Jack asked her.

''For the northern platoon,'' Kris said smoothly, not giving Jack any opening to debate again the proper place for a princess in the coming battle.

''I've assigned Gunny to you as well as First Lieutenant Troy. Now, before you change your mind about leading a platoon, please excuse me while I look over my half of this lash-up.'' Without waiting for a reply, Jack threw her what might pass for a salute and left. Since space armor wasn't really intended for parade and ceremonies, Kris attributed his display to the equipment and not insubordination.

Not that Kris had any right to complain about a little insubordination here and there.

She turned to Gunny. ''Let's land the landing force.''