Starship: Mercenary (Starship, Book 3) (32 page)

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Authors: Mike Resnick

BOOK: Starship: Mercenary (Starship, Book 3)

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“I find myself liking this Teroni better and better,” said Cole. “I hope to hell we both live long enough to see him get his own warship.”

“I’ve
had
a warship,” replied Jacovic. “What I need now is a
cause
.”

“I should think beating back Csonti and his damned killers is cause enough,” said the Duke.

“I have nothing against Csonti,” said Jacovic. “Since he will be attacking, I will of course do everything I can to defend myself and destroy him, but this is a
circumstance
, not a cause.”

“Semantics,” said the Duke. “It’s kill or be killed. You should both be eager to destroy that son of a bitch.”

“No military man is ever anxious to fight,” said Cole. “We’ve seen war, and we’ve seen peace, and there’s not a soldier or sailor anywhere in the galaxy who doesn’t think peace is better.” He paused, frowning. “Also, I’m going to have to go up against the finest warrior I’ve ever seen, and I’m more than a little resentful of it.”

“Csonti?” asked the Duke. “I didn’t know you’d seen him in action.”

Cole shook his head. “I’m referring to Val. It didn’t have to come to this.”

“She deserted you.”

Cole sighed. “It’s not that simple.”

“It’s precisely that simple,” responded the Duke.

“I convinced her to give up a very successful career as a pirate. I showed her that a military unit that was having difficulty paying its way as pirates could do very well as mercenaries. She bought into it. I can’t blame her for doing what I convinced her to do.”

“You never told her to fight against the
Theodore Roosevelt
,” said the Duke.

“You don’t understand her,” said Cole. “She grew up an outlaw. In a society that rewards guts and strength, she reached the top of a profession that most women don’t even enter and in which most men don’t live to see thirty. There’s not a member of the
Teddy R
that isn’t indebted to her one way or another. We’ll fight her, even kill her, if we have to, but I’m not happy about it.”

“You sound like you were grooming her for great things,” said Jacovic.

“She was capable of them,” answered Cole. “I was just trying to smooth off the rough edges and point her in the right direction.”

“And now we will have to kill her,” said the Teroni.

“If we’re lucky,” said Cole. “She’s about the least killable person I ever saw.”

They fell silent for a moment. Then Cole noticed Forrice and Mustapha Odom entering the casino. He waved to them, and they made their way through the crowd.

“Have a seat,” said the Duke. “The drinks are on the house. I trust you bear good tidings.”

“Well, tidings, anyway,” said Forrice.

“What’s the bottom line?” asked Cole.

“To borrow a human expression,” said the Molarian, “we’re sitting ducks.”

“No!” exclaimed the Duke angrily. “I’ve got more than one hundred and fifty thumper and burner cannons positioned around the station.”

“They’re all Level 2s,” said Odom.

“What the hell does that mean?” demanded the Duke.

“It means the pulse cannon fire dissipates after fifteen thousand miles, and the laser is weak enough that about eighty-five percent of the ships on the Frontier can deflect it. All they have to do is park their fleet twenty thousand miles out and start firing.”

“So much for weaponry,” said Cole. “What about the station’s defenses?”

“Its shields and deflectors can ward off anything up to Level 4,” replied Odom. “But I’ve asked around, and Csonti’s got at least nine ships with Level 4 thumpers or burners.”

“How long would it take to upgrade?”

“Two weeks for defense, just a day or two for offense,” answered Odom. “However, the expense to cover the whole station at one time would break him.”

“But what’s here now is in working order?” asked Cole.

“The cannons and shields we tested are.”

“It all works,” said the Duke. “I have everything tested every Standard month.”

“Okay,” said Cole. “Thank you, Mr. Odom.” He looked at the Molarian. “Have you got anything to add, Four Eyes?”

“Just that Singapore Station can’t possibly defend itself against Csonti’s fleet. The only question is whether the
Teddy R
can take them all on, and that depends, to a great extent, on the nature of their weaponry.”

“It’s not a viable alternative,” put in Jacovic.

“It might be,” said Forrice. “If they don’t have anything above Level 5 . . .”

“Oh, the
Theodore Roosevelt
might survive, though I doubt it,” said Jacovic. “But unless Csonti is such a totally inept commander that he keeps his ships in a tight formation so we can confront them all at once, half of them can be attacking the station while the rest are holding the
Theodore Roosevelt
at bay in a firefight.”

“He’s right,” said Cole. “The station can’t defend itself or harm Csonti’s fleet, and even if the
Teddy R
is powerful enough to take on all of Csonti’s ships at one, which is a highly dubious proposition, we can’t fight him and defend the station at the same time.”

“So we’re beaten before we begin?” asked the Duke.

“I didn’t say that,” answered Cole. “It just means we’re going to have to come up with a strategy that plays to our strengths instead of one that fails to mask the station’s weaknesses.”

“Spare me the jargon and tell me what we’re going to do,” said the Duke.

Cole almost looked amused. “I’m good, but I’m not that good. If I’d come up with a strategy already, I would have told you about it.”

“But they’re coming in just three days!” said the Duke. “And your experts just told us that the station is virtually indefensible in this situation.”

“No,” said Cole. “They said it can’t be defended by conventional means, and they’re right. We’re not giving up; we just need to come up with a different means of accomplishing our goal.”

“You don’t surrender just because the numbers are against you,” added Jacovic. “That is where skill, intelligence, experience, and innovation come in.”

“Right,” said Forrice. “Since coming to the Inner Frontier the
Teddy R
has probably won more battles by avoiding direct confrontation than by engaging in it.”

“Well, it sounds good, anyway,” said the Duke, suddenly relaxed. “All right, gentlemen, I’ve had my two minutes of panic. I’ll be fine now. Just tell me what I can do to help, and I’m at your service.”

“I appreciate that,” said Cole. “And as soon as we’ve hit upon a course of action, we’ll let you know how you can help.” He paused for a moment. “Mr. Odom?”

“Yes?”

“If we divert all the station’s power into its defenses—shields, screens, deflectors, whatever the hell it’s got—can we strengthen them enough to buy us some time?”

Odom shook his head. “There’s no shortage of power on the station, sir,” he replied. “There’s simply no way to strengthen what’s here, rather than replacing it.” He looked at the Platinum Duke. “You shouldn’t have stinted on your defenses.”

“We never anticipated a major attack,” answered the Duke. “We installed our shields to protect us from cosmic garbage, and out-of-control ships, and the occasional attack by a single bandit or pirate ship.”

“Stupid,” said Odom. “Any military dreadnought could vaporize Singapore Station in ten seconds.”

“They never come this far into the Inner Frontier.”

“Neither do Navy warships with battle-hardened crews, but I notice you’ve got one defending you. You have to anticipate the worst that can happen, multiply it by a factor of three, and then hope you’re lucky.”

“I think he gets the point, Mr. Odom,” said Cole.

“Pity he didn’t get it a few years sooner,” said Odom, getting to his feet. “I’ll be back at the ship when you need me.”

He walked off as the Duke said, “Doesn’t he mean
if
we need him?”

“I think he meant what he said,” offered Forrice.

“I want you to go back to the ship too, Four Eyes,” said Cole. “Run a number of simulations, and see if there’s any offensive or defensive formation that will give us an advantage over a fleet of thirty-five ships. You know what kind of weaponry the
Red Sphinx
carries. Stipulate that Csonti’s got at least four or five ships that are even better armed.”

“I don’t think any computer is smart enough to come up with a winning formation,” said Forrice.

“I know, but we have to go through all of the possibilities.”

“May I add something?” said Jacovic.

“Be my guest.”

“If the computer actually does come up with an advantageous formation, then add the defense of Singapore Station into the equation.”

“We’re not going to get that far,” said Forrice.

“But if God drops everything else and you do,” said Cole, “then add a further stipulation that they’re trying to destroy the station and we’re trying to defend it.”

“Will do,” said the Molarian, getting up and heading to the door with his surprisingly graceful spinning gait.

“He’s going to come up empty,” said the Duke.

“Probably,” replied Cole. “Would you rather he sat here and drank your liquor?”

“No, of course not.”

“Look,” said Cole. “We’re not giving up and we’re not running away, but we have a very limited number of options, so we’re going to have to explore each of them in the next day.”

“And if you don’t find any?”

“We’ll improvise. But I have to know what we’re doing within the next fifteen hours, twenty at the outside.”

“Why?” asked the Duke, curious. “Not that I don’t want you to decide on a strategy. But Csonti won’t be here for at least two more days.”

“You’ve got about sixty thousand permanent residents and probably at least that many visitors and transients on an inadequately defended station that’s about to come under attack,” explained Cole. “If we don’t come up with some plan that looks like it’s got a pretty good chance of victory—or even if we do—we’re almost certainly going to have to evacuate the station.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” admitted the Duke.

“To quote my First Officer, if they stay here they’re sitting ducks.”

“Yes, I suppose they need at least one Standard day to get away from here,” agreed the Duke. “Seriously, do you think there’s any likelihood at all of coming up with a viable plan?”

Cole shrugged. “You never know. Sometimes they come from the least likely sources.”

As it turned out, the solution was right in front of him.

Cole took a brief nap in his hotel room, then returned to the
Teddy R
, where he sought out Forrice, who was sitting at the main computer console on the bridge.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“About what you’d expect,” answered the Molarian. “The machine has rejected”—he looked at a number on the holoscreen—“just over four thousand formations.”

“I assume it hasn’t approved any?”

“If it had approved even one, I wouldn’t still be sitting here,” said Forrice.

“Tell it to stop.”

“I might as well,” said Forrice. “If it hasn’t come up with an acceptable formation yet, it’s not going to.”

“I’m amazed that it can come up with four thousand for just five ships.”

“They don’t differ all that much,” said Forrice, getting to his feet.

“Where are you going?” said Cole.

“Probably to the mess hall, or maybe I’ll make one last trip to my favorite location on the station.”

“Later,” said Cole. “You’re not done yet.”

“But you said—”

“I said to stop trying to come up with formations. I want you to spend another hour or two seeing what the results are if we attack and disable Csonti right at the outset.”

“I will if you want, but Csonti’s not our biggest problem, and you know it.”

“He’s got the biggest ship, or so I’m told,” responded Cole. “As for Val, of course she’s our most formidable antagonist, but you can’t program intangibles into the computer. Or can you?”

“Not really,” answered the Molarian. “Once I program them in, they become tangible, they have limits, and they don’t change.”

“So find out what happens if we attack Csonti
before
he’s within range of the station.”

Forrice shrugged an alien shrug. “You’re the boss.”

Jacovic’s image suddenly appeared on the bridge.

“Ah, there you are, Captain Cole!” he said. “I’ve been looking for you at your hotel and the casino.”

“What’s up?”