Command Decision (19 page)

“No, and you weren’t dressed up like stage performers and pretending to be pirate hunters, either.”

“I’m just going to talk to them, Hugh. Promise.”

“Well, be careful. You’re taking security, right?”

“Of course.”

Their commander was as handsome as his screen image, though his coloring reminded Ky unpleasantly of Gretna. But Theodore Albert Driscoll Ransome was as cheerful and open as the Gretnans had been dour and sly. Tall, his shock of honey-colored hair flopping over one side of his forehead, he moved as flamboyantly as he spoke.

“Captain Vatta! In reality as I live! What an honor to meet the hero of Sabine!” He flung out an arm and bowed low.

Ky had to think hard to figure out what he meant; Sabine was many crises back in her personal accounting. “Oh, that,” she said finally.

“Your modesty becomes you, but I insist, it is an honor to meet you at last.” He gave a half shrug, and his captain’s cape swirled out dramatically. “Together, we shall do wonders; together we shall free the universe of this scourge of pirates.”

Together, Ky thought, they could sound like a primary school play.

“We have a long way to go,” she said. It sounded flat after the man’s flowery language, but she couldn’t match his tone even if she’d wanted to. “Are you prepared to stay the distance?”

“Oh, death and glory by all means,” he said, grinning. “Trumpets shall sound and if we fall maidens will throw roses on our graves—”

“If we fail, those maidens will be dead or slaves,” Ky said. “This is not an operetta.”

He blinked. “Well…of course. I understand that. It’s only…there’s no harm in…in seeing ourselves as heroes, don’t you think?”

“There’s no harm in it as long as it doesn’t affect performance,” Ky said.

“Oh, no danger there. No danger at all. My people are more efficient in pursuit of honor than anything else. I chose them for that.”

Could anything so handsome, so decorative, so…so enthusiastic…possibly be useful? Ky wondered. Behind her, Martin stirred; she knew without asking what he was thinking of this…
popinjay
would probably be the kindest term he’d come up with.

“Tell me something about your experience,” Ky said.

He smiled broadly and settled himself on the edge of his seat, like a dragonfly about to take off again any moment. “It all started with Grumnos. You won’t know Grumnos. It’s a moon of one of our gas giants in my home system, and about a century ago the prisoners—it’d been used as convict exile—overthrew the guards and wardens, stole some supply ships, and began preying on commerce in our system. It was more of a nuisance at first—they’d just hold up a ship for ransom, or steal some food, and the government decided that putting it down would cost too much.” He gave a dramatic shrug.

“But then it got worse, as rascals always do if you don’t nip them in the bud, and about five years ago some of us decided to take care of it ourselves. My friend André and I bought a couple of ships—my
Glorious
and his
Triumphant
—hired some mercs for crew, and by the time we were done…well…” he dusted his hands. “No more pirates on Grumnos. And it was a ripping good sport, hunting pirates, we decided. André and I set up the Rangers and invited our friends to fit out their own ships and join us. Our government agreed to pay us a bounty for every pirate ship destroyed. For a while, we had very few outland pirates—I imagine they heard about us…” He smirked; Ky wanted to laugh but didn’t. “But then some nasty types showed up, first one and then two. We fought them off, not without casualties. Poor André was killed when a beam took his ship, but I am assured he would have had time to feel nothing, not that fear ever touched that noble heart. But then…then it was I heard about the vast pirate horde assailing distant systems, and it seemed to me the best way to protect my own was to meet them there, at a distance, and with allies whose courage and honor matched our own. I believe you, my lady—Captain Vatta—are such an ally, one I would be proud to die with—”

“I would rather
they
die,” Ky said. “But I thank you for the compliment.”

“Our ships are small, but our hearts are great,” he went on, gesturing magnificently; Ky still could not think of anything but the more melodramatic stage productions. “You and I together—against the foe!” He looked at her then as if he expected applause for the rhetoric and delivery.

Would he and his ships be any use at all? Surely some use—even if only as scouts or messengers—but what a risk if he proved not to be honest.

“I’m somewhat concerned about the lightness of your ordnance,” Ky said. “We expect to be up against groups of the enemy. When you and…er…André fought the pirates, were you using multiship tactics, or…?”

“Well, we did read about standard tactics, of course,” Ransome said. His voice sounded calmer now, as if—having delivered his set speeches—he was actually capable of normal conversation. “But as you say, our ships are small—what some space navies called escort size, as you noticed. We don’t mount as much ordnance as the standard tactics called for, so we pretty much had to make it up. Our speed’s an advantage, and our smaller size means we can do microjumps in and out of FTL closer to large masses than bigger ships. I’ve installed the best available navigational computers, and our drives—insystem and FTL both—are top of the line, of course.”

“I’m sure,” Ky said. She wasn’t, not until she’d seen the specs.
Top of the line
in one system might be mediocre in another. “How did you see your contribution to our organization?” she asked.

“Oh, we don’t expect to be part of the
regular
fleet,” he said. “We’re more suited to independent action, I would think. Can’t expect my people to knuckle under to an outsider, y’know.”

That didn’t sound good. “You would need to train with us to be much use,” Ky said. “Wouldn’t want to be running into each other, fouling each other’s shots, that sort of thing.”

“Quite,” he said. “I do understand that. I was thinking, size of our ships and all, we could be useful as couriers, as scouts, and in cutting-out expeditions.” That was a term Ky had never seen applied to space warfare. The rest was along the lines she’d already thought of.

“Tell you what,” she said. “You need to meet my other captains, and I need to meet some more of your people. What you’re offering sounds very generous, but you know how it is—people are either going to get along, or not.”

“How about a dinner?” he asked. “Or a party?”

“I think we captains should meet first. A quiet dinner, perhaps.”

“That would be great…I could host…no, you probably want something on neutral ground, don’t you?”

“Adelaide Station has several good restaurants in the standard-gravity sections, and there’s always the Captains’ Guild,” Ky said. “We can reserve a private room—”

“Splendid! I’ll tell my fellows. This evening, or is that too soon?”

“Let me check with Captain Argelos and Captain Pettygrew,” Ky said. “If their schedules allow, this evening would be fine.”

CHAPTER

TEN

R
ansome’s fellow captains—introduced by Ransome as Dennis Malachi Quartermaine St. Cyrien commanding the
Furious
and Allan Desmond Joachim Baskerville commanding the
Courageous
and—were cut from the same cloth as Ransome, though not quite as flamboyant. All three showed up in formal uniforms, the captains’ capes of silk that gave them a fine flair as they moved. They, too, had wealthy families, which came as no surprise. Ky felt old and staid beside them; Argelos and Pettygrew looked like she felt.

“You should’ve seen him at school,” said St. Cyrien. “I remember when we were taking that history class—he took it into his head to learn the fighting styles of every period—”

“Only those with swords,” Ransome said. “
Much
more fun than the others—”

“—and one day when our teachers arrived, he and Des and Hal were on the main stairs, whaling away at each other—”

St. Cyrien started laughing so hard he could barely talk. Baskerville stepped in to finish the story.

“They were afraid the blood was real,” he said. “We didn’t use actual sharps; our mothers would’ve killed us. And we aren’t stupid. So we’d fixed little squirt bottles of red stuff—food coloring, wasn’t it?—on the ends of the blades, so when you made contact it pushed some out. It didn’t really look that much like blood, but it was red…”

“It was just a lark,” Ransome said. “But we all got detention for it. I had to read some moldering old lecture about the evils of violence and the dangers of glorifying war…not that it had any effect…”

Ky glanced at her captains; they both had the expressions of men caught between horror and amusement, and determined not to show it.

“Not that we think war is good, you understand,” St. Cyrien said. “I mean, everyone knows it’s bad, and people die and so on. But it’s been around for thousands of years, and it’s not going away. Might as well be on the side of truth and justice and all that, and go at it with flair, don’t you think?”

“Flair is nice. Skill and training are even better,” Ky said.

“See?” Ransome said, throwing out his hands to the others. “A lady of intelligence and character as well as beauty.” He beamed at her. “We’re going to get along splendidly, I can tell. You will be the steadying influence—women always are—and I will be—”

“See here,” Pettygrew said suddenly. “Are you serious about anything?”

Ransome’s handsome face contracted in an obviously intentional scowl. “I am perfectly serious, sir—Captain Pettygrew—about opposing the scoundrels who now threaten civilization. I am prepared to give my life’s blood, if necessary—though I quite agree with Captain Vatta that we would prefer the pirates to die instead of ourselves. No one can be more serious than that.”

“How old are you?” asked Captain Argelos. “And how long do you propose to stick with this war? And what does your family think?”

Ransome waved one hand. “My family? They’re all quite mad—”

“I can believe that,” Pettygrew muttered under his breath.

“They’re in the fourth year of their cycle, and you know how that is—or maybe you don’t play evolving rings here?”

“Never heard of ’em,” Argelos said.

“Oh. Well. They’ve given up cause and effect for the time being—they’re being Irrationalists…that’s
intentional
Irrationalism, not accidental.”

“Doesn’t this cause…er…problems?”

“Oh, but that’s the point, you see. It’s part of the doctrine of oppositional intellects. Just as with muscles, where one contracts while another relaxes and stretches, so in our culture we exercise one intellect at a time. In the Irrationalist phase, people are legally mad—Irrationalism
is
insane, you know—and they all have to wear labels to warn everyone else.”

“This is all fascinating,” Argelos said. “But what I wanted to know was, what does your family think of your spending the family fortune fitting out ships and going off to war?”

“It isn’t the family fortune; it’s mine,” Ransome said. “Settled on me when I reached majority. And as for the other—they don’t think. They are absent from thinking in this phase. I imagine if they transition to Reason while I’m gone, they’ll be upset, but since no one can predict how long their Irrationalist phase will last, I don’t worry about it.”

“It runs in the family,” Pettygrew muttered.

“Tell me,” Ky said. “Is one of these phases Romanticism?”

“Of course. I’ve only been a Romantic for two years now, but I can’t imagine being anything else.”

Dead
hovered on the tip of Ky’s tongue, but she managed to not say it.

When they were alone again, Argelos shook his head. “I thought you were a loose cannon when we first met,” he said to Ky. “I apologize. I’ve now seen the real thing, and you are a model of discretion and prudence.”

Ky laughed. “He’s not that bad.”

Argelos narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to tell me you find him attractive?”

“Decorative, merely,” Ky said. “But there’s always been a place in war for the decorative enthusiasts.”

“Cannon fodder,” Argelos said. “That’s their place. And your senior crew would tell you the same. Send them to charge the barricades like the fools they are.”

“You’re in a mood,” Ky said. “Let’s talk plans then. How can we use cannon fodder?”

“Why would we even want to? We aren’t fighting that kind of war.”

“Support is support. Why wouldn’t we want them? They’d be useful as couriers, as scouts—”

“They stick out like supernovas,” Pettygrew said.

“So? Who’s going to suspect that people in gaudy ships with gaudy uniforms are actually connected to a serious military force? Let them stick out. Let them swagger about, show off, all the rest of it. It will divert attention from the rest of us.”

“As long as you’re not just falling for the shiny prince-figurine—” Argelos said.

“Oh, for—no, I am not ‘falling for’ him or any of them.”

“He is handsome…and you’re…uh…of an age—” said Pettygrew, with a glance at Argelos.

“If you say the word ‘hormones’—” Ky said. She was furiously angry and moved to laugh at the same time. It was just too ridiculous.

“I didn’t. I didn’t. It’s just—” Pettygrew spread his hands.

“I don’t believe this. Just because you’re both older, and I’m a young female, you think I’m going to lose my judgment—” She walked on a few paces, trying to regain her equanimity. “It would serve you right if I did fall head over heels for him. And it might make him easier to manage if he thought I had—”

“You wouldn’t do that!” Pettygrew sounded shocked.

“Well, thank you for that, anyway. But let me tell you—” She rounded on both of them. “—I would rather do that than act like a silly schoolgirl faced with a storybook prince. Pretending romance is at least a calculated tactic; the real thing is…is stupid.”

She whirled and stalked off; the memory of Hal’s betrayal rose in her memory like bile. She had done that once: fallen in love with someone as handsome as Ransome, fallen in love with the whole idea of romance, of two hearts beating as one, two lives lived for each other. Not again. Not ever again…and she wasn’t going to tell them why, either.

But she would work with Ransome because right now he had ships she needed, and money she needed, and his aims and hers ran side by side.

She came aboard
Vanguard
in a black mood, not helped by the concerned expressions Hugh and Martin wore when she got to the bridge.

“Don’t say a thing,” she said. “I can read it on your faces—you think I’m impressed by a pretty face and shiny braid.”

“I—”

“No. I just got that from Argelos and Pettygrew. It’s not true. I have no interest in Captain Ransome because of his face or his uniform. My interest is military and practical: he has ships we could use, and money we need. We will work with him because we need him, and he, of course, needs us. He can’t fight a war with those little ships; he needs to ally with a force that has real muscle.”

“We just worried—” Martin began.

Ky rolled her eyes, and he stopped. “I am not a silly schoolgirl. I am not going to go breathless over every handsome face that comes along…and if I were, I’d already have fallen for a lot of men on this ship. You’re not the ugliest bunch in the universe.”

That got their attention; they both looked startled and then slightly ashamed.

“Now,” she said. “Let’s think how to use Ransome’s Rangers to our best advantage. I’m thinking couriers and scouts. They’re so flamboyant, it’s a kind of disguise; I’m sure others will see them as we did—rich playboys playing at war. If they connect us, they’ll probably think what you did—that I’ve let my hormones influence my decisions. And though I think they are rich playboys, I also think they are more than that.”

“All right,” Hugh said. “But can you trust them to follow orders?”

“Probably not,” Ky said. “But I don’t think it matters. If they’re loose cannons, they’re still a distraction to the enemy.”

“And they’ll get killed…”

“Yes, they’ll probably get killed and die convinced they’re achieving undying glory. That’s their problem. If they don’t follow orders, I’m not going to worry about their survival rate.” Ky cocked her head. “So can you quit worrying about the romantic streak I don’t have, and waste no more time on it? We have more important things to worry about.”

“I suppose we’d better,” Hugh said. Martin still looked shocked, but Hugh grinned at her. “I’m glad to find that my concerns were unwarranted, Captain, and I’m sorry to have doubted your maturity or judgment for even a moment.”

“Don’t go overboard,” Ky said, grinning back, “or I’ll begin to wonder about
your
sincerity. Now. Captain Ransome made an offer, before the other captains came, to help us with supplies. I realize this puts us in his debt, but we need more munitions. Adelaide Group’s not known as a big munitions dealer, but I’ve been poking around. They do have twelve hundred older SS-V-87s, which we could upgrade using components they stock in another department.”

“Twelve hundred! And what will that cost?”

“Well below what Gretna would have charged. I think I can get Teddy to buy them—and yes, I may call him Teddy if that gets the job done, and you will just have to bear it.”

“For twelve hundred missiles and the components to upgrade, I can bear a lot,” Hugh said with a smile.