Victory Conditions (34 page)

“The latest report from our people says there’s been his lingo here—” Pitt pointed to a set of coordinates. “It’s just a blip in the stream, for most traders—the only reason it was ever colonized was raw materials. It’s only a two-day FTL hop from Gingervin; miners go over there and break off pieces. Finally someone installed a station, three or four space-based processors, and they have a kind of back-of-the-hills trade for anyone who drops in. Rough bunch. Anyway, one of our people knows someone who knows someone, and they reported some odd transmissions.”

“Wouldn’t they want a place with a relay ansible?” one of the Moray officers asked.

“No—they have their own,” Ky said. “They don’t need relay ansibles, and if they’re in an empty system, or between systems far from an ansible, less chance of being noticed.” She stared at the display. “Did they actually come to this miners’ place, Master Sergeant?”

“Word was somebody made a beer run, Admiral. But it’s third-hand.”

“I can’t see Turek letting any of his people wander off just to find liquor—surely he’d have his own setup, if he allowed it.”

“It’s a way to find out what rumors are floating around,” Major Steen said. “Hang out in a bar and listen, the same way the Mackensee informant did.”

“Well, we can’t sit here waiting forever,” Ky said. “We’re stuffed with supplies; we’ve done the run-in tests. We could always use more training, but I don’t expect Turek to wait for us to move, and we dare not wait for him. At the least we need to be closer to his likely targets—and this is in the right direction.”

From the sudden alertness in the room, Ky was sure that the others agreed. “Orders, Admiral?” asked the Moray senior commander.

“Make up formations,” Ky said. “Just what we’ve talked about—we’ll head for the jump point, use the same vector as Ransome, seven standard days in FTL, drop out and contact him. Maybe we’ll get a better fix on location before we jump, but we have more extensive charts to use when we get there, even if not. Captain Yamini, I want you to be advance scout: precede formations to the jump point, extend your FTL to seven point two five standard days, and come in dead slow.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Yamini blanked his screen.

“Any questions?” Ky asked the others. No one had any. “Fine. I estimate we’re twenty or more hours before the fleet’s in formation on the right vector to the jump point; I’ll have more detailed orders for downjump by two hours prior so you can pass them to your formations. Let’s go.”

Ky set to work drafting orders to cover the possibilities she recognized: Turek’s force within firing distance, Turek’s force light-hours, or-days, away, mines in the downjump destination, everything she could think of. The same basic five or six formation assignments covered them all, thanks to the work she and her staff had done in the past tenday. Shields up. Weapons hot. Passive scans only on downjump. She handed the draft orders to Pitt and Stanley, a Moray officer.

“Here. Nitpick. What did I forget?”

“What about microjumping the forward formations out two minutes? Your spacing’s five, right? That’d give some margin of error.”

“Good point,” Ky said. With this many ships, and less training time than she’d have liked, best leave more room for the inevitable errors. “But into a pincer formation—gives us more options, whatever we find.”

“Admiral Vatta, we have a location!” The navigation officer was grinning. “It’s on a mapped route, but not a green one—it’s yellow due to flux disturbances near a pulsar here—” He pointed. “In fact, there are mapped jump points all through this area—” With a touch he highlighted a region. “But no green routes. An open cluster here, a pulsar there…really more trouble to commercial vessels than ours, but it’s a wonder Captain Ransome didn’t run into something.” Ky gave him a look, and he hurried on. “Turek’s force is here. Mapped jump point PRTB-1512, in the current Pritchard-Robarts atlas.”

Ky transmitted the navigation data and her orders to the rest of the fleet and watched as the ships edged into formation. Squadrons combining the new heavy cruisers from Moray, the Cascadian and Moray warships, the privateers, the support ships—supply, minesweepers, all moving to her plan.

It had better be the right plan. The wraiths of her dead rose around her for a moment, reminding her of mistakes made, deaths she had not prevented, and then her implant intervened. She would do her best; she had taken the best advice she could get; what happened would happen.

She left her office and began a walk through the ship after notifying her flag captain. Hugh would have known her routine, known she walked the ship daily, and they had their understanding of his limits and hers. This new
Vanguard
had become more familiar with every passing day, but it was not the old
Vanguard
and Captain MacKay was not Hugh. Its crew was a mix of Slotter Key, Moray, and Cascadia citizens…all new to her…she had them all in her implant now, knew the cooks in the galley—a space as large as the largest crew compartment had been in the old
Vanguard
—and the moles in Environmental, as well as the weapons crews and the engineers.

The ship smelled right, its original sharp odor from outgassing of new synthetics now mellowed by filters and hydroponics. Chemical sensors along the bulkheads checked constantly for toxic vapors, but Ky knew the human nose made a good early warning for some things. The ship sounded right, too…the barely heard vibrations were those of good adjustment…nothing was phasing in and out. The voices in compartments she passed had the right timbre, even if the accents were different. Crew were excited, eager, but not anxious.

The day before she had walked the portside first; today she started at the starboard bow. This
Vanguard
mounted multiple beams along the long axis; the massive supports and heat-radiating structures crowded the center of the ship on the weapons deck, narrowing both lateral passages. Ky reached out and ran a finger along the red stripe—the red Turek had ordered, and which she had not bothered to change. The deck gleamed under the overhead light-bars; the bulkhead itself, matte-finished except for the stripe, curved gently toward the bow.

At the starboard forward missile battery, Ky looked in. Chief McIntosh of Moray was drilling a team on fusing options; one of them spotted her and leapt to his feet. “Admiral on deck!”

“At ease,” Ky said. Despite the obvious advantages to having uniforms that were uniform, only the officers had acquired Space Defense Force uniforms. Chief McIntosh, in a dark tan shirt and slacks tucked into brown ship boots, had a tartan armband with four black stripes angling across it; the team he was drilling included two in Moscoe Confederation green, and three in Slotter Key blue. “So, Chief, how’s it going?”

“Fine, ma’am,” he said. “Crews are meshing well. Never thought I’d get to serve on a ship like this, y’know.”

“Nor I,” Ky said. “I thought Slotter Key cruisers were big, back when I was in the Academy, but this thing’s twice that size at least. I can spend more than a shift going from compartment to compartment and not see them all.”

He grinned. “That’s right, ma’am. We’re one of the few places that can build ’em this size.”

“Well, carry on, Chief. I’d better keep moving. Admirals are supposed to spread their interruptions around…” She moved aft, pausing in each of the weapons bays to speak to crews, all busy with something.

Cascadia Station

Stella Vatta pored over the financial data Ky had sent. She had in fact sold the ansibles to Teddy Ransome for the sum Stella had suggested. But she had given others away…there was the amount owed to Crown & Spears on Gretna, already taken care of. But the purchase of indentured servants was illegal here in the Moscoe Confederation. Traffic in humans was illegal most places…and she didn’t think they’d understand that it had been the only way to save those people from a worse fate. Were any of them still with Ky? Could they testify if necessary? It would help if she could talk to Ky, not have to pass everything through her staff…silly, that. She was family. Family should always have access to family.

“Aunt Stella!” Zori tapped on the door. She had come to call Stella “Aunt” only in the past few days. Though she now lived with her mother, she showed up at Stella’s at least once a day, trailed by her escort.

“Yes, Zori,” Stella said. The girl might not be family yet, but she now believed it was likely to happen.

“I just heard something…it may be only a rumor, I don’t know, but this boy at school said something about your cousin Ky, the admiral—”

“What?”

“That she…she died. Her ship blew up.”

“What! No, of course she didn’t.” The icy wash that seemed to drown her for an instant passed. “I’ve had messages from her.”

“Oh…” Zori slumped against the desk. “That’s a relief. I didn’t really think Jed knew what he was talking about, but he said he heard it from a man who heard it dockside.”

Except…Ky hadn’t actually contacted her personally. Of course that meant nothing; she was busy; she had a fleet to organize, enemies to watch out for. Still…she must be alive. Someone would have told Stella if she wasn’t. Someone would have known, someone would have made contact, surely.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check. Just to be sure. And if a rumor was going around that Ky had been killed, that might impact morale…she should let Grace know.

With that thought in mind, Stella placed an ansible call to Moray, and waited longer than usual for the icon to resolve into someone’s face. Not Ky’s face, but then she had staff…Stella tried to ignore the knot in her stomach. The uniform was unfamiliar as well.

“Admiral Vatta, please,” she said. “From Stella Vatta.”

“I’m sorry; the admiral is not available.”

“Would you give her a message to contact me directly as soon as possible?”

“I…will transfer your call to a more senior officer. Just a moment.”

Stella’s anxiety grew.

Ky had just finished taking Teddy Ransome’s latest hourly report when one of the Moray officers walked in. “It’s your cousin,” he said. “She wants to talk to you. She’s on a secured line, but—”

Ky shook her head. “She can’t know I’m alive. Stella wouldn’t leak it but there’s too much chance, with Toby and Zori there, and Zori’s father having been one of them—”

“She’ll be upset—”

“My concern is defeating Turek,” Ky said. “We have only a slim chance of doing that anyway. I’m not going to give it away to comfort Stella. Tell her my ship blew up.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

“Sera Vatta.” The senior officer in Moray uniform who had appeared on screen was an older man. “I realize this may come as a shock—I am sorry it is necessary to—”

“What?”

“When Admiral Vatta arrived here, we were under attack by the force we’d been warned of. In the battle that followed, her forces joined with our own defenses and drove the enemy away, albeit with losses. Admiral Vatta’s ship blew up while in pursuit of the enemy.”

“Her…ship?” Stella could not think for a moment. “But—but she was in a special unit. She should have survived—”

“I’m sorry,” the man said.

“So…who’s commanding Slotter Key forces now? And the coalition? Has the Moscoe Confederation government been informed?”

“All relevant governments have been informed,” he said. “Clearly the alliance is still necessary. I believe Slotter Key is sending someone out to take command of their ships, and the overall coalition commander will be decided very soon. More than that I cannot say.”

“Were there any…was anything…recovered?” Stella asked. She still felt numb, but knew that pain would follow.

“No. I’m sorry…the aftermath of a battle in space is…not…” His voice trailed away. “I wish I could offer some comfort—”

“Comfort!” White rage etched through the numbness; Stella fought it down. “I’m sorry; I have to go—no, wait. The government here hasn’t made any announcement, so if they know—perhaps I shouldn’t say anything—?” But how could she not?

“I believe the decision was made not to publicize Admiral Vatta’s…passing…in order not to disturb the public. But you might want to speak to Garond Seviera, in the Moscoe Confederation Department of Defense.”

“Seviera,” Stella muttered, entering it in her implant database. “What’s he?”

“An undersecretary for propaganda, I believe. And sera, if anything is…recovered…you will certainly be informed.”

“Thank you,” Stella said.

After she’d disconnected, Stella sat motionless, waiting for the grief to strike. She could sense its approach, a giant block of misery…all the things she’d said she could not now take back or explain away, all the words unsaid that could not now be said. No. She could not wait for it. That first stab of anger at the Moray officer gave her energy. She looked up Seviera and placed a call to his office.

“Sera Vatta, how may I help you?”

“You can tell me if it’s true that my cousin Ky is dead and you’re hiding that fact.”

“Sera…where did you hear that?”

“The young woman I’m taking care of, Zori Louarri, heard it from a schoolmate who heard it from someone who works dockside. She didn’t believe it, and neither did I until I tried to contact Ky myself. And an officer of the Moray Defense Services told me her ship had blown up.”