Intrepid

Kris spent the time Thorpe was overhead going over a map with Grampa Bobby Joe. It was amazing what she could get from someone who'd walked the land with his own boots. There was a lot here that didn't show up from orbit.

For example, which homesteaders were longtime diggers, and who only got started when the ships hove into view. Two ships coming through the same jump point had gotten everyone's attention. It was a good year when two ships dropped by. One following the other into the system did not strike anyone as a business deal coming their way. Some places just started digging. Others only had to put the finishing touches on their work and start moving their families and gear underground.

Kris studied the prepared ones. It would be hard, but not impossible, to get from here to where she wanted to be by going on to the next homestead at eighty-five-minute intervals.

Kris also learned which farms had gunsmiths, or electronic whizzes, chemists, doctors, and others with important skills. These she also marked on her map. In twenty minutes her map was busy.

And she'd probably gathered more information on Panda than Thorpe had now. One or two ships a year not only meant little arriving. It also meant not a lot of data about this place went out. Just an idea, not yet an assumption. But … know thine enemy might not be these guys' strong point.

No, Thorpe probably figured all he had to do was intimidate some unarmed farmers out of their livelihood. That starship captain did not know these people.

Kris knew the full extent of her job: hatch a full-fledged rebellion against heavily armed invaders.

Or were they that heavily armed?

''Want to meet the guy you're up against?'' the elder asked.

''I know the one in orbit,'' Kris said.

''I mean the one on the ground.''

Over in the corner, behind Kris when she was facing the inquisition, was a small wall monitor. She'd noticed it earlier, but it showed only a blue screen with a small white logo … which turned out on close examination to be a grinning skull … so she'd ignored it. Now someone called up a picture from memory. It was hazy, and bounced around a bit. It showed a lander on approach, then cut to troops dismounting in businesslike fashion.

''Can you pause that?'' Kris asked.

The picture froze. Hazy at first, the monitor cleaned it up crystal clear after three flickers. Kris and Gunny stooped close to get a good look at what it showed.

''Mark V, mod 2 battle suits,'' Gunny said. ''No, mod 3s. They got the codpieces. Good stuff. Somebody had money,'' Gunny said, turning to the elder.

''Not enough. Look what comes off the next shuttle,'' the old man said with a sour grin.

The next lander was a standard shuttle, unarmored. The troops who tramped off it held M-6 rifles … or good knock-offs … but from the soles of their boots to the tops of their white berets, there was not one stitch of armor.

''Looks like somebody filled out his battalion at a bargain basement,'' Bobby Joe said. ''I wonder how good they are.''

They formed ranks and marched off the pier. Whoever was in charge didn't know to stay out of step when crossing bridges or other structures that might not withstand the pounding. Sad to say, the pier held together. But if the troops were supposed to instill fear in the observer, they missed their bet with Kris.

''Their heads are bobbing like a bunch of high school girls,'' Gunny growled, then thought better of it. ''If you'll pardon the expression, Your Highness.''

''I was thinking the same thing, Gunny,'' Kris said. ''Half of them can't dress, cover, or keep an interval. Kind of makes you wonder how straight they can shoot.''

''My thoughts exactly. Old-timer, you called it in one. Somebody unloaded a bunch of half-trained recruits. Cheap they may be, but they're up against a princess who cared enough to send the very best,'' came from Gunny, with a wolf's grin.

Bobby Joe came to stand beside the Marine. ''That's the way I took it. I figured when it came time for us to take back the daylight, we'd start with this bunch. Still, I have to admit, I'm only too glad to share the honors with you and yours.''

''You said I could meet the guy in charge?'' Kris said.

''That's coming in a second,'' the elder said, and a moment later, the picture got knocked around, ended up showing ground and sky and somebody's web gear. The Mark V was serious stuff.

When the picture leveled out, it was focused on one man's face. Olive skin and black eyes gave the camera a hard, measuring look. ''You live?'' the man demanded.

''Yes sir,'' came with a stammer and hiccup.

''Then broadcast this to whoever is watching. I am Colonel Hernando Cortez. I and my troops have come to restore order on Presley's Pride. All terrorists who turn in their weapons in the next twenty-four hours will be allowed to live. Anyone seen under arms twenty-four hours and one minute from now will be shot on sight. Further orders will be issued, and their nature will depend on the cooperation we receive. Did you send that?''

''Yes, sir.''