Command Decision (47 page)

“This is Captain Pettygrew, of
Bassoon,
” Ky said. “And Captain Ransome of
Glorious
commanding Ransome’s Rangers, and Captain Baskerville of
Courageous
.”

“I understand your home world was overrun,” John Mackensee said to Pettygrew. “My deepest sympathies. Did you have family…?”

“Yes,” Pettygrew said. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Of course.” Mackensee turned to Teddy Ransome, whose idea of civilian business attire included a shirt with ruffles at the neck and wrists. Ky would not have been surprised if he’d had a sword at his hip. “And you—are you aware of the history of your ships’ names? I understand that you lost one, the
Furious
.”

“Back in the days of Old Earth,” Ransome said. “The days of wind and sail…”

Ky saw a telltale twinkle in Mackensee’s eye, a twitch of his lip.

“You are a student of history, Captain Ransome?”

“Call me Teddy,” Ransome said. “And not so much a student of history…serious history. Too many years—eons even—pass with nothing to stir the blood. But some are rich with pageantry, with glory—”

“Indeed,” Mackensee said; the corner of his mouth twitched. Please…do come inside,” Mackensee said. “Meet the others.”

Dark wood, tiled floors, comfortable furniture in rich colors, a fire crackling in a huge fireplace. Men and women who, despite being in civilian dress, were obviously Mackensee officers. Everyone was cordial, but Ky felt that she and her captains were under a social microscope. That could cut both ways—they could examine Mackensee as well as be examined.

Mackensee moved them expertly from pre-dinner drinks and light conversation to a dining room whose proportions reminded Ky painfully of her lost home. Here the tabletop was a slab of polished stone veined in pale shades of gray with a few streaks of white, instead of wood. One difference in culture showed up immediately: no sooner had the first course been served than the man on Ky’s left, who had introduced himself earlier as Colonel Vitanji, said, “So, you had formal military training—I’ve never met anyone from Slotter Key before. Did they include Gauschmann’s
Tactical Exercises
?”

“Let her eat, Terry,” Mackensee said. “At least three bites before business.”

“Sorry, sir.” He turned to Ky. “Sorry, Captain.”

“Terry’s an instructor these past three years in our command course,” Becker said.

“And he’s convinced that Gauschmann’s is the best source on tactical maneuvers in the past two decades,” said a woman across the table. “I’m Ari Wistrom—didn’t get to meet you before dinner. Anyway, Terry will talk your ear off about tactical theory if you let him.”

“Not theory,” Vitanji said. “Proven, practical—”

“Enough,” Becker said, with a quick glance at Mackensee.

Ky tried a spoonful of the soup in front of her: pale green, translucent, and delicious. While she ate, she listened to conversation among the officers…business, nearly all of it, in short snatches. She liked the tone she was hearing—brisk, good-natured, touches of wit here and there, competent…Mackensee would have picked the best to lure her, she was sure, but these were people she could work with.

After the soup came a delicious main course, medallions of beef, potatoes sliced to make a decorative swirl. Pettygrew, Ransome, and Baskerville were chatting happily with the officers near them; Becker and Mackensee seemed to be discussing gardening. At a nearby lull, Ky spoke to Vitanji.

“Actually, we didn’t have Gauschmann’s
Tactical Exercises
in our classes. We used Simjuk and Baiye.”

“Not bad at all,” Vitanji said. “But you should take a look at Gauschmann.”

“What I found, once we obtained the shipboard ansibles, is that having instantaneous ship-to-ship communication at significant light-distances both allowed and forced changes.”

“I’d expect so.” Vitanji grinned. “In the last few days, since we heard of the possibility, I’ve been trying to develop some ideas, but since you’ve actually done it—”

“No need for close formations,” Ky said. She took another bite of potato, and noticed that the table had quieted. “There’s still scan lag, of course, but ships can share position information via ansible, so you know exactly where your ships are. If you have small, fast ships—or stealthed ships—you can shadow an enemy and transmit
that
information to the rest of your group. We lost one of our people that way, Captain St. Cyrien, but the data he provided before they found and destroyed his ship was most valuable.”

Now they were all quiet, listening.

“I’m sure we’d all like to hear what you’ve learned,” John Mackensee said, “if you don’t mind sharing.”

“Not at all,” Ky said. “As long as I don’t have to miss the rest of this excellent dinner. This beef—!”

He smiled at her. “My own herd. Long ago and far away, I believe my ancestors must have been cattle ranchers, because for someone brought up on spaceships, I take entirely too much pleasure in watching my cows eat grass. These are genetically modified to produce meat with specific nutritional components, which, in the origins of the species, weren’t present. For instance—” He stopped himself and chuckled. “Sorry. If you get me started on cattle, no one will hear about your tactical discoveries, and most of these people aren’t anywhere close to retirement. They’d much rather listen to you.”

Through the rest of the meal, Ky and her other captains answered questions and explained what they’d learned, using tableware and dishes to represent ships. It was the kind of intelligent, challenging discussion that Ky had always enjoyed at the Academy, and by the time they adjourned to the living room with its fireplace, to take dessert pastries from a tiered server on a sideboard, she was even more persuaded that she would fit in here.

So might Pettygrew, she thought; he seemed happy and relaxed. Ransome and Baskerville, predictably, stood out like parrots in a flock of doves. She could not imagine them taking to the discipline Mackensee would insist on. She couldn’t tell if they were slightly drunk or just their usual flamboyant selves, but theirs were the loudest voices and most extravagant gestures. Argelos…Argelos would try to get back to Slotter Key, she was sure. He had already said he felt bound by his letter of marque.

Her mood darkened; the conversation had become general again, and she let it pass her by. She would love to have had this, from the house itself to the easy camaraderie of the Mackensee officers. This was the life she had hoped for when she argued her family into letting her enter the Academy. And her father…what would he want? His daughter running around the universe in a ship that might come apart, trying to fight a war on her own, or in a large, experienced organization of competent mercenaries?

She glanced across the room and saw the clock…time to go, but she didn’t want to leave, not really. She felt safe here.

With an effort, she turned to smile at John Mackensee. “Thank you, sir, for a lovely evening, but we must go if we’re going to catch that last evening shuttle.”

“You could stay downside tonight,” he said. “Guest rooms here, or accommodations in town if you prefer.”

Ky shook her head. “No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, and this has been delightful, but my ship’s expecting me.”

He nodded, unsurprised. “Duty and all that, eh? Well, I’m glad you were able to take an evening off. It’s been my pleasure, and I hope to see you again soon.”

When Ky got back to the shuttleport, she had a message from
Vanguard
. “Stella wants to hear from you as soon as possible,” Hugh said. “She’s really excited about something.”

“Excited? Not alarmed? System ansible, or…the other?”

“System ansible,” Hugh said. “She didn’t sound alarmed to me, just a bit miffed that you hadn’t called in and weren’t on the ship.
Gallivanting around the galaxy,
is how she put it.”

“Give her a call back and tell her I’m on my way up from the planet,” Ky said. “The shuttle’s leaving in about fifteen minutes…I should be back in a couple of hours.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Ky hoped it was good news about money; she had to admit that Becker was right about the cost of supplying so many ships. So far Teddy Ransome’s purse had seemed bottomless, but she knew all purses did have bottoms eventually. In that musing about money, she realized she had made her decision. Much as she respected Mackensee, much as she respected and admired the officers she’d met, and recognized that they respected her, much as she had enjoyed the evening and wanted that sort of life for herself…she could not join them. She still cared too much about Slotter Key—and she still wanted to make her own decisions. If that meant worrying about money and supplies and repairs…so be it.

When she came onto the bridge, it was nearly local midnight; she felt some change in mood. “What do you know that I don’t?” she said to Hugh.

He was not quite grinning, but he looked very happy. “I don’t know anything…but I suspect from your cousin’s expression that there’s good news. You may not need to take Mackensee’s offer—”

“What do you know about that?” Ky asked, annoyed. “I haven’t said anything to anyone on the ship.”

“Slip of the tongue by someone in a bar,” he said. “I think deliberate slip, but I’m not sure. Anyway, it makes sense they’d want us to join them. We’re the spice; they’re the cake.”

Ky snorted. “I think we’re rather more than that. But let’s see what Stella really has to say.” Under the circumstances, it probably had to do with more progress making or selling onboard ansibles—not a topic she wanted to discuss over ISC’s network. She sat down at the onboard ansible’s console. Stella must have been waiting by her own, because she answered at once.

“Ky, have you sold those other onboard ansibles yet?” Stella asked without preamble.

“No,” Ky said. “I’ve talked to Mackensee about them, and they want them, but it’s not a done deal. I don’t have enough to supply all their ships, anyway. Why? Isn’t their money good?”

“Don’t. And whatever else you do, don’t sign up with them.”

“Stella…what’s going on?”

“It’s Aunt Grace.” Stella’s tense look widened to a grin. “You will not believe—well, you will, because it’s true, but—”

“If you don’t tell me, I’m going to reach right through this ansible and strangle you,” Ky said. “Just say it.”

“Slotter Key’s government has agreed to contact all the outlying privateers and order them to put themselves under your command, as an arm of Slotter Key Spaceforce.” Stella’s grin was even wider now.

Ky’s mind went blank for a moment. “It…
what
?”

“They’ve already started arriving here, at Cascadia. You need to get back here with those ansibles so they can be mounted in the privateers…we don’t have the advanced versions ready yet, but that should at least give you parity with the pirates, yes?”

“Er…yes. Yes, it will.” Her mind seemed to expand like a balloon with something she realized was joy. “How many privateers?”

“They’ve made contact with thirty-seven so far. All have contacted me to say they’re on the way. The first four have arrived in system here. How many of those ansibles are left?”

“Thirty-two.”

“I’ll see how fast Toby can hand-build another five or six or whatever.”

“What does the local government think about a lot of privateers showing up? Have you asked them?” Ky could imagine serious problems from that.

“Slotter Key contacted them directly; they’ve worked some kind of deal. I think there may be a few ships from here joining up, too, but not until they’re supplied with the ansibles. In the meantime, though, they’ve committed some funds for supply, via Slotter Key. How soon can you leave there? What’s your travel time to here?”

Ky turned to Hugh. “What would be our ETA for Cascadia Station, fastest safe route?”

“For all our ships?” he asked. Ky nodded. “I’ll get to work on it. And if you’re contemplating an early departure, I’d say more like sixty hours—we still have munitions coming up for all ships.”

“Stella, it’s going to be days before we can leave here,” Ky said. “We’re loading munitions coming up from the surface. I’ll have the figures for you as soon as I can.”

“Good. Call me any time; I’ll be in skullphone contact with Toby if I have to be out of range of this ansible, or use the system.” Stella closed the connection.

Ky looked at her bridge crew, who were trying to pretend they had no interest in the messages. “Life’s about to get even more interesting,” she said. “Slotter Key’s sending reinforcements, and they want me to command them.”

“Here?”

“No, at Cascadia, where Stella is.”

“So…you’re not thinking about joining Mackensee?”

“Not now,” Ky said. She realized she was grinning and tried to smother it, but then she saw the expressions of her bridge crew. “You all knew about the offer?” There were nods and murmurs.

“We thought you’d probably do it,” Lee said. “But I said, No, she’s a Slotter Key girl at heart, and they don’t take orders from anybody.”

“I did for four years,” Ky said, but she was too happy to remind him that he was supposed to be more formal. “I don’t suppose you had a pool on it…” At his guilty look, she laughed. “Of course you did. I hope you won, Lee; your faith is touching.” She turned to Hugh. “I’ll want you and Martin to start planning how to bring the mostly civilian crews of the other privateers up to military standards. Resupply is being arranged between Slotter Key and the Moscoe Confederation. Now I need to talk to the other captains, and then let Mackensee know the ansibles aren’t for sale—”