No one laughed.
''I would suggest surviving our approach to the enemy battle line deserves one of your fingers, Phil.'' Chandra Singh said, her voice slightly singsong. ''If we are not alive to shoot our lasers, all else is mere sorrow.''
Dark-eyed Chandra was the second exception to the rule. Older than the other skippers … she actually had two children waving from her husband's side on the pier when the squadron pulled away. She was a mustang. She'd come up through the enlisted rates, earning her commission even before the present emergency had the Navy combing its ranks for chiefs to leaven the ranks of green college kids like Kris and her fellow skippers.
''We're mighty small targets,'' Ted Rockefeller of Pitts Hope pointed out. His trust fund wasn't quite as well-stocked as Kris's. He was cute but not very smart, which he regularly showed by the misconclusions he drew. ''It'll be mighty hard for an old battlewagon to draw a bead on one of us tiny targets.''
''Kind of like you shooting skeet,'' Andy Gates said, nudging him with an elbow.
''If they have fire control systems anything like I broke many a screwdriver over, they will spot you,'' Singh said.
''So we dodge,'' Gates said. ''That's what Commodore Mandanti says. Dodge. Never go straight for more than five seconds.''
''And if you follow his advice,'' Taussig cut in, eyes locked on Kris, ''you'll be dead in three seconds. Right Kris?''
''More likely in two,'' she said. The room got very quiet as she put down her water tumbler.
''The Commodore is a good man,'' she continued, ''but he was retired to his chicken ranch for fifteen years before they brought him back to ride herd on us juvenile delinquents.'' That was the PF commanders' secret name for themselves. Kris doubted it was any secret from the Commodore.
''For most of the last fifty, sixty years, not much changed on a warship from what came out of the Iteeche Wars. No need. The Society of Humanity kept the peace throughout human space. Now human space is in pieces and… Well, you hear the news.'' Heads nodded. Wars and war rumors sold a lot of soap these days.
''The technologies developed in the long peace have been finding their way aboard warships. Last ten years, things have been changing. Singh, you must have noticed it as a maintainer.''
The old Chief, now lieutenant, nodded.
''My grandfather's bottom line has made a few terabucks off of the new stuff. I doubt he's been alone,'' Kris said dryly, giving the rest of her mates a smile that was pure cynic. They nodded back. The technical growth had driven a long economic expansion. All peaceful. Now the plowshares were being hammered into swords and the money their families had all banked in the good times just might be in line to kill their heirs real soon. Great thought to take home to the next Christmas dinner.
''So we need to dodge a lot,'' Heather said, bringing them back to the matter at hand.
''Jinks, I'm told, is the military term for it,'' Kris supplied, Phil nodded. ''And you need to do it both faster than any human can think it through and in a more random pattern than any fire control computer can analyze. Be slow. Be predictable. You'll be dead and your ship and crew with you.''
The servers delivered slices of pie, cake, and bowls of ice cream into that silence. From the wide-eyed looks that passed between them, it was apparent they'd never been in a room full of JOs that were quite as subdued as this bunch. Alone in their room once more, no one seemed to have any appetite.
''Is this where I come in?'' came a pleasant voice from around Kris's neck.
Kris undid the top button on her undress whites. This put her out of uniform, but with her depressingly small chest measurements, she'd be no distraction to the male half of the room. ''Does anyone object to my computer, Nelly, joining us?''
''I was hoping she would,'' Singh said.
''So, Nelly,'' Phil began, ''can you give us an erratic enough approach course?''
''I have already given this question some thought, since I did not doubt that you would come to me for my expertise on this,'' Nelly said.
Kris rolled her eyes at the ceiling. Humility might be something ten rich kids could teach each other the hard way. But how do you teach virtue to a computer? Especially one you'd paid top dollar to make the best and who knew very well that she was. What did Singh say? ''Some things in life just must be suffered.''
Of course, after saying that to her crew, the old mustang was wont to borrow a toolbox and fix just the thing the crew insisted couldn't be fixed.
''What have you got for us?'' Kris said.
Nelly immediately flashed a holograph of a battleship at one end, a tiny replica of a PF at the other end. The PF started its approach at full power and maximum evasion: up down, right left, fast, slow. Its course was a corkscrew of twists and turns that made several captains at the table turn a fine shade of green.
''You will want to start at a lower acceleration,'' Singh pointed out. ''Our engines are small. If we spread radiators to dissipate the heat, we present a bigger target. If we don't, we risk overheating if we abuse them for too long. Begin the approach at one point five g's acceleration, then build up.''
''I don't know,'' Gates said. ''Balls to the wall sounds like a great way to go to me.''
Kris made a mental note to do it Singh's way.
''So each of us does our own evasion pattern and charges in,'' Rockefeller said.
''I would not suggest that,'' Kris said.
''Why? You aren't going to say that we all have to evade the same way. What happened to unpredictable?'' Alexander asked.
Kris glanced around the table; all she got back were blank stares. She'd even managed to get ahead of Phil this time. Most of them were smart, but they hadn't been shot at. They hadn't gotten that gut kick that came when your best plan fell apart despite your best effort. They had yet to be left standing there, or lying, or running, and wondering what you should have done better… different. Kris took a deep breath and swore that she'd do this slow, earn everyone's support.
It had to be all for one and one for all.
''If I zig away from a chunk of space, just as you zag into it,'' Kris used her hands to show ships passing, ''the shot intended for me becomes a shot that hits you.''
''The chances against that are a million to one,'' Gates spat.
''Yes, and you'll be just as dead,'' Phil said. He chewed on his lower lip for a second. ''We're training so we can do it right the first time, every time. But we can't expect bad luck to stay off the battlefield. Nelly, could you develop a different jinks pattern for all twelve boats? One that lets us jink all over, each boat fully random but never close to the other's space anytime near to when another boat was in it?''
There was a longer pause than Kris had come to expect when talking to Nelly. Long pauses were happening regularly now as Nelly gained more comprehension of the full extent and the size of the problems humans faced regularly. Nelly might be a supercomputer, but her decision trees were getting supersized. ''Yes, I can do that. Each boat will need to start the attack from well-spaced positions. The Commodore usually has you in line behind the flagship. You will need more space than that to maneuver.''
''Good observation, Nelly,'' Kris said. Yes, Nelly was even responding to praise. Exactly what had Kris bought with her latest upgrade, and with that bit of Santa Maria rock in the self-organizing matrix that she'd told Nelly not to look at but…? Well, there was one more spoiled brat on the PFs than the Navy had assigned.
Phil leaned close to Kris's ear. ''I'd heard stories about your Nelly. This is the first I've seen her in action. Nice.''
''You caught her on one of her better days.''
''I heard that.''
''Good, because I want five different evasion approach plans for all twelve boats,'' Kris snapped. No use having all that computing power if she wasn't going to put it to use. And an idle Nelly was something to avoid at all cost.