Intrepid

That wasn't what Kris read in the history books. But Kris had less and less trust in what the learned scholars and newsies reported. She weighed several options and chose the one that seemed the most honest. ''Ma'am, I'd like to promise you, but I won't. If it would make you more willing to let them come and do what I order, I guess I could raise my hand and swear any oath you want. But the truth is that what we're headed into won't be easy to do and harder to foretell.

''I sure don't plan on using anyone as cannon fodder. And I kind of suspect my grampa Ray didn't think he was using all that many as you've heard about. Still, how a fighting man says he was used after a battle and what the commander thought he was doing may not come out sounding anything alike.''

The old woman snorted. ''I've had a few relationships go that way. To hear some guys talk, you wouldn't think we'd been on the same planet, much less in the same bed. I like your honesty, girl. I think I'll trust you with my boys. Oh, and a couple of my girls are good with a gun. You got any problems with them going along?''

''My mother would, but I'm hardly one to talk.''

''What you going to do about this martial-law thing?'' Gramma Polska asked, changing the topic.

''What would you do?'' Kris asked right back.

''I'd tell folks not to kill any of those rascals. Not now. Not until the time comes. They're looking for a fight. Don't get in their way. Sooner or later, they'll find one. Then they'll do enough dying. Maybe enough that they ain't all that interested in killing unarmed folks.''

The farm boss woman shook her head. ''I know that's not what you wanted to hear, but that's what I'd tell people.''

''Nelly, did you record what Gramma Polska just said?'' Kris asked, with a quick glance at her neck.

''I have a short-term record, Kris.''

''Include that in a tight-beam to the Wasp as soon as it comes over the horizon. Add my voice to a picture of Gramma Polska—‘I am Princess Kris Longknife of the Wardhaven Navy, and I strongly advise people to follow Gramma Polska's advice. A time of reckoning is coming, but it is not now. Don't do something that causes these outlaws to hurt your friends.' ''

''I will tight-beam it as soon as the Wasp is up.''

''Good. How long did it take Thorpe to respond to our first broadcast?''

''Ninety-two minutes. He was almost below the horizon when he sent the martial-law decree.''

''Let's get our reply to that one up as fast as we can.''

''Kris, in a minute Thorpe's ship will be out of line of sight. Shouldn't we be getting back to the trucks?'' Nelly said.

''Time flies when you're having fun.'' Kris sighed.

''Let me come with you,'' Gramma Polska said. ''My family will feel better about going if they see me with you.''

So Kris headed out of the huge sod-covered barn with food, full fuel tanks, and two extra trucks. One of them knew just the farmstead to head for, so it took over the lead.

The time with the Wasp went quickly. Captain Drago got the message responding to martial law and rebroadcast it in less than a minute. Information continued to be thin. It looked like Jack's scouts had made initial contact with Colonel Cortez's lead troops. At least Cortez's vanguard was no longer charging up the road as fast as they could drive, but had slowed down and now had people walking point and flank guards. That would give Kris more time to get south.

And Cortez more time to bring up his full force.

Every coin has two sides to it.

And, if Kris could read anything out of the cloud of noise around that vanguard, Jack was drawing them in to exactly the ambush they'd planned.

Make that ambushes. Two is always more fun than one.

Kris rode in the back of the truck this time, letting Jamie and his old man share the cab. She studied the rolling terrain, then eyed the troops in the trucks around her.

The Polska truck was in the lead, navigating across the sea of grass by whatever system these folks used. Here and there residual stands of broom trees stood, their land covered with underbrush that the locals avoided driving through. That would give away a lot to overhead observers.

But it was the troops Kris studied. In trucks with mostly Marines in the back, the troops had posted a watch, then flaked out to sleep. If you got time to spare, grab a wink had been the advice of the old sweats since before Caesar.

It was the other trucks that caused Kris to squint hard … and worry. The volunteers were up, looking around, fondling their rifles. A few cleaned their weapons. But the smart ones were very few. How would these people handle it when they saw their targets fall? When the man beside them fell, his head half-gone? What could Kris expect from these amateurs? They were fighting for their very lives. It was their freedoms that were on the line. But had they had enough time to realize the stakes? Could they find in their guts what they needed to go on when everything that was natural and human screamed run?