Marque and Reprisal (22 page)

“I… do have one. From Slotter Key. It was waiting when I got here, but—”

Roth looked worried. “You didn’t have it at Sabine, did you?”

“No. I just said—”

“Because that would screw everything, ma’am. You’re—you’re a privateer?”

“No,” Ky said firmly. “I’m not. I never—I didn’t ask for it, it was here when I got here, and I’m not sure it’s valid anyway, because the government—”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but this is a serious problem. I’m going to have to call Captain Pensig.”

“Can you explain?”

“We don’t do contracts with privateers. Legal problems; it’s against regs. There’ve been a few cases, but—you say you haven’t used it?”

“No, I haven’t used it. It was here when I got here, and I’ve been sitting in dock—”

“That’s something…,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced. “The thing is, ma’am, the term is
possession
of a letter of marque. Not proof that you’ve operated using it. Can you prove that you didn’t have it before you arrived here?”

“I’ve got the delivery receipt somewhere,” Ky said. Quincy would know, probably.

“I’ll just go back to dockside and call Captain Pensig,” Roth said. Ky started to ask why he wasn’t calling Lt. Mason, but refrained… she didn’t want to deal with Mason anyway. She hoped someone would straighten out the legal angles; it would be the worst sort of irony if a letter of marque that Slotter Key undoubtedly didn’t want her to have kept her from getting the help she needed now.

In a very few minutes, Lee spoke up. “Captain, you’ve got another call from Captain Pensig.”

Pensig looked grim. “So—Roth tells me you weren’t a privateer at Sabine, but now you are. Was that some kind of reward from the Slotter Key government?”

“No,” Ky said. “This is what happened.” She went over it all again, finishing with “So I don’t even know if the letter is valid now. There’s no way to contact them; the ansibles are down.”

“Hmph. The problem is, Captain Vatta, that under the law relating to privateering, possession of a valid letter is construed as sufficient proof that the holder is in fact a privateer.”

Ky hadn’t known that.

“And we don’t contract with privateers, since that blurs the lines of responsibility should anyone question the legality of proceedings.”

“I’m not following that,” Ky said. Pensig sighed.

“I could explain it, but better if our legal staff did. Look here, Captain—we’re both in a cleft stick. You need our protection; we need your money. I believe you when you say you have not committed any acts based on the authority of that letter. Under these circumstances, I think a limited contract might be possible, but you would have to agree not to use that letter of marque while we’re in contract, and I must warn you that the contract will likely be rescinded as soon as we’re back in contact with our headquarters. As you say the letter itself may be. Is that acceptable?”

Ky hadn’t ever planned to use the letter of marque while with the mercenaries anyway. “Yes, that’s acceptable,” she said.

“For our own protection, I’ll have to have that clause added to the contract,” Pensig said. He sighed again. “I’ll have our legal staff transmit the changes. Any other surprises?”

“Not that I know of, but I didn’t know about this one,” Ky said.

Shortly after that, Master Sergeant Roth reappeared with a revised contract; Ky signed it, and Roth transmitted the details of the contract to the Mackensee station and the ship captains. The lieutenant, predictably enough, thought the Mackensee contingent should get more money, but within the hour they had an agreement. Ky called the bank and had five thousand credits transferred to the Mackensee account.

“The men’ll be pleased with this,” Roth said. “They were not looking forward to survival rations or being put in cold storage.”

Ky had not realized that last was a possibility—frozen soldiers? She repressed a shudder. “One favor,” she said. “Could you find me someone other than the lieutenant for a liaison?”

Roth grinned. “Yes, ma’am, I think we can do that.”

She was finally getting somewhere, Ky thought. Whoever was attacking Vatta, it wasn’t her fault for having killed Paison at Sabine. Stella’s contribution increased her resources considerably, and hiring the Mackensee local force at least ensured that they were on her side, and couldn’t be hired against her. That had to help with her first priority, survival. Rafe… she wasn’t sure of Rafe, but factions within ISC causing the breakdown in ansible communication made a certain sort of sense.

She stretched. It had already been a long, long day. Perhaps a nap… The exterior com line lit, and Lee answered. “Yes—yes, the captain’s on the bridge. Just a moment.” He turned to her. “It’s Captain Pensig again.”

No rest for the wicked
was the ancient expression, but it seemed to apply to the virtuous just as well.

Ky sat up in her command chair and flicked on the screen.

“Now that you’ve hired us,” Captain Pensig said without preamble, “what exactly do you want us to do? I assume not sit here like a target for your enemies and eat up all your credits…” The habit of command, well honed by conflicts, conveyed the impression that she should have an entire plan of action laid out already. Roth had only been gone a half hour.

“Er… no.”

“We need a situation report as soon as possible,” Pensig said. “Our intelligence considers the threat level to Vatta ships and personnel extremely high—”

“Too high to come aboard for a conference?” Ky asked, interrupting what looked to be a lengthy harangue.

“No,” he said. “When?”

“At your earliest convenience,” Ky said, hoping that would be at least enough time to eat something. And if not, what could she feed them? What courtesies did mercenary ship captains expect from employers?

“Half an hour, then,” Pensig said. “Expect three of us: myself, Captain Garner’s Exec—we can’t both leave our ships—and Master Sergeant Dolan. Oh, and an escort, of course, but they’ll remain in your docking area.”

“Fine,” Ky said. “I’ll expect you then.” Drat, drat, drat. She was hungry, she was tired, she was not in the mood for a strategy conference right now. But they were coming, and she was the host.

They’d been eating stationside food, as Ky had been saving space for shields or weaponry, so she called down and told Quincy to organize some refreshments for the coming conference. “Fresh nibbling stuff, nothing that needs cooking. At least two, wearing protection, one of them armed,” she said. “And make it quick. They’re coming in a half hour, and I want to get cleaned up. And don’t let that miserable puppy get loose.”

“Right, Captain,” Quincy said, though she sounded as if she was laughing. “The pup’s all right, in his way.”

“He’s in everyone’s way,” Ky said.

Stella, in Ky’s cabin, was deep into computation; Ky hoped it was their financial status being brought up to date. “I’m showering; we have company coming,” Ky said, on her way into the head.

“Who?” Stella asked.

“Our new employees. Strategy conference. You’ll want to be there. Martin, too. Let him know.” Then she was into the shower, twisting the knob for a hard pulsing spray. She toweled off quickly, pulled on her bathrobe, and went back into her cabin. Stella turned around from the desk.

“That was fast.”

“Fast showers are a specialty at the Academy,” Ky said, yanking underwear out of a drawer. Vatta dress blue, she decided, dressing in one swift flow of movement while Stella stared.

“Ky, it takes me that long to get my clothes off the hanger, even if I know what I’m going to wear.”

Ky buttoned the jacket. “So?”

“I’m impressed, that’s all. Why do you want me at this conference? I don’t have any background in strategy.”

“There are three of them and one of me,” Ky said. “Yes, I’m the employer, but I still want better numbers.”

“All right. Will these clothes do?”

“Yes. You’re businesslike. You may not need to say much.”

“In other words, shut up and let you handle it?”

“No. But I’m introducing you as a source of information and also as my financial officer. Vatta’s financial officer. You can look grave when money is mentioned.”

“Grave concern,” Stella said. Her face settled into exactly such an expression, and Ky grinned.

“Excellent. Martin represents something they understand; he’s so obviously ex-military. We have five minutes; let’s go set up the space.”

Quincy had sent Toby and Mehar up to straighten the rec area; Ky had them go into the galley and lay out some platters and plates in readiness.

“You invited them for dinner?” Stella asked.

“No. But I suspect employers are expected to offer refreshment, and since we’re already feeding their troops, I might as well feed these officers. The food should be arriving shortly.”

The officers arrived first, with their escort. Ky welcomed them aboard and led them to the rec area. Pensig she had seen onscreen; in person he was half a head taller than she was; she could feel her spine stretching in response. The Exec off the other ship was a stocky balding man about her own height with bright blue eyes; the enlisted man with hashmarks up his sleeve was, she assumed, Master Sergeant Dolan. He looked as if someone had hacked him roughly out of cast iron. He gave her an appraising look and then a slight, sharp nod.

“Please be seated,” Ky said. “Refreshments are on the way.” She hoped they were; she had expected them by now. The dock area’s grocers weren’t that far away.

“Thank you,” Captain Pensig said. “This is Lieutenant Commander Johannson, Captain Garner’s Exec, and Master Sergeant Dolan.” He looked at Stella.

“And this is Stella Vatta,” Ky said, ignoring Stella’s married name. She wanted the implied heft of the Vatta name. “She is my senior intelligence officer as well as acting CFO for Vatta family interests off Slotter Key. And this is Gordon Martin, who’s in charge of our security measures.”

“Do you have other Vatta family members aboard?” Pensig asked.

“Yes, a survivor of the attack on a Vatta ship on Allray. But Toby’s a little junior for this conference.”

“I see. Master Sergeant Roth explained that you would prefer another liaison than Lieutenant Mason. That made it necessary for myself, as senior ship captain, to contact you. Would you care to explain your objection to Lieutenant Mason?”

She could not tell from his tone if he was displeased by it or not. “Lieutenant Mason told me he had no combat experience,” she said. “While I have no doubt that the training he received was thorough, I would prefer to deal with individuals who have actually seen action.”

“Ah… he told you?”

“Yes. How else would I have known?”

“I see. So, hiring mercenaries, you expect and demand experience… that makes sense.” He smiled at her. “Do you perceive your need as including ships as well as ground troops?”

“Yes,” Ky said, wondering what this was about.

“Very well. I realize that our command structure is unfamiliar to you, but if you define the mission you assign to us as including ships for more than mere transport, then I, as senior ship captain, become the ranking officer, and I may appoint anyone I choose as customer’s liaison. You have not asked, but I will tell you that my combat experience is… extensive. You are welcome to peruse my file.” He handed over a data cube.

“I’ll take you at your word,” Ky said, hoping that was the right response. His smile broadened; apparently it was.

“Well, then, I think Master Sergeant Dolan will do you very well for onstation or onplanet liaison, and once we’re beyond the first stages of planning, Lieutenant Commander Johannson will be your fleet liaison. Will that suit?”

“Perfectly,” Ky said. She had no doubt of Johannson’s combat experience; he had the look.

“As I understand it, you have defined our mission in terms of protection of yourself and any family members, discovery of the source of the attacks, and counterattack against this organization. Is that correct?”

“That is my mission,” Ky said. “My resources may not extend to obtaining your assistance in all of it.”

“Understood. But first and foremost is your safety and security, and that of your family members whose locations we know—three, isn’t it? I would advise you most strongly, Captain Vatta, to depart this station immediately. We are more able to protect you in space than here, where I understand you and your crew have already been subject to attack. We cannot move our docking slots to cover your flanks, for instance; there are other ships already docked there. However good your dockside security, there is no way to protect you against attack using the exterior of the station.”

“I see,” Ky said. “I had hoped the external monitors we have would be sufficient. You think not?”

“They were not at Allway,” Stella said, “where Toby’s ship was blown up in dock. I was told it was with mines placed on the ship from outside, probably by agents using the maintenance hoppers. And I know
Ellis Fabery
had external monitors; all that class did.”

“Well, then, we’d better take advice. But I have a few questions. Captain Pensig, I had been waiting to complete resupply in anticipation of installing a defensive suite and possibly some weapons—they’re on hold at MilMart. What is your advice there?”

“If you can afford better shielding, and have it delivered within a few hours and install it yourself, fine. Otherwise, my advice would be to load and go as quickly as possible. I can offer crew assistance in that, if it will speed you.”

“Stella, contact MilMart for me and get a delivery estimate on the defensive suite. I know Quincy can install it en route. Then tell Alene to order in supplies. Leave just enough room for the defensive suite, if MilMart can deliver it dockside in two hours or less. And while you’re at it, check on whoever Quincy sent out for supplies. They should be back by now.”

Stella nodded and left the room.

“You have someone overdue?” Pensig asked.

“Yes,” Ky said. “A pair of them. Damn it, they were only going as far as the grocer’s down the way.”

“With permission, sir, I’ll check on that,” Dolan said.

Pensig crooked an eyebrow at Ky, and she nodded. They had the resources and for the moment it was hers.

“Names?” Dolan asked.

“Just a moment,” Ky said, and went to the comunit, flicking it on. “Quincy?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Who’d you send out for food, and have you had any word?”

“They aren’t back yet? Jim and Mehar—they weren’t going far; I told ’em to get whatever was available at Farmboy’s just down the way.”

“Stella’s going to ask you the same questions in a minute,” Ky said. “Mackensee personnel are going to go looking for them.”

Ky gave the names, descriptions, and destination to Dolan; she had a sick feeling in her stomach. Dolan nodded and left the room. Before Ky could say anything, Stella came back.

“MilMart says they can’t deliver for at least six hours, but it’s available now. Want me to find a delivery service?”

“We’ll take care of that,” Pensig said. “If you’ll authorize our pickup. They do know us…” He smiled.

“Will do,” Ky said.

“I notice you don’t have an implant,” he said. “You haven’t replaced the one damaged at Sabine?”

“Your surgeon advised me to wait six months,” Ky said. “Stabilization of neural repair or something like that.”

“Had it checked?”

“Haven’t stopped,” Ky said. “Life became… interesting.”

“I see. Would you like one of our surgeons to evaluate?”

“Not at the moment, if we’re kicking out of here as fast as possible.” Ky wasn’t at all sure she wanted a Mackensee surgeon investigating her brain anyway.

“Any seizure activity? Sensory abnormalities?”

“No. I’m fine… I think. Why?”

“Only that it would be simpler if you also had an implant. But you’re right, this can wait. Collecting your defensive suite shouldn’t. If you’ll contact MilMart with authorization, I’ll get a squad over there right away.”

“Excuse me,” Ky said. “The secure lines are all on the bridge.” She left them there, taking deep breaths on the way to the bridge. She had not anticipated that events would move with such speed, and yet why not? If you hired military, you expected action… or you should. She felt stupid and slow, and she hated that feeling.

On the bridge, she opened one of the secure lines to the bank and authorized a draft to MilMartExchange for the cost of the suite, and then spoke to MilMart authorizing Mackensee personnel to pick up the equipment.

“So—you’ve hired mercs. Well, you hired good ones,” the accounting manager said. “When will they be picking it up?”

“Soon,” Ky said. “Within the hour, I should think. By the way, your policy statement states that you maintain customer privacy and discretion—”

“Oh, sure. Nobody wants anyone to know what they’re buying or who for. Don’t worry, Captain Vatta. We’ve been doing this for years. Are you sure you don’t want that weapons suite?”

“I’m sure,” Ky said. She wasn’t at all sure she trusted that casual assurance of discretion, but she had no choice, really. Lee cocked an eye at her as she shut down the line.

“Things moving, Captain?”

“Indeed, Lee. We’ll be undocking today, soon as we can load up this defensive equipment and supplies. Start the ball rolling with the station about that.” She shook her head. “And I thought, once I got back to Belinta with that load of tractors, that everything was going to be simple and boring again.”

He chuckled. “Somehow I think you aren’t cut out for boring, Captain.”

Ky shook her head at him, and went back to the rec area. “You’ll want the authorization number from MilMart,” she said, handing it over. “They’re ready for pickup any time; the bank’s released funds. And they promise discretion, for what that’s worth…”

Pensig pursed his lips. “MilMart’s pretty good about it—they’ve made their reputation and their fortune by keeping their mouths shut—but they’re big enough now that leaks could happen.” He looked blankly into the distance for a few moments; Ky knew he was accessing his implant. “Well, that’s taken care of. Now, how about a loading crew?”

“Good idea,” Ky said. “I was just—”

“Captain—” That was Lee, poking his head in. “Rafe’s on the line; he says he needs you.”