Command Decision (29 page)

“Yes, sir…”

He chose the lift for ordinary employees, transferring at the seventh floor to the stairs. He needed the exercise, he told himself. Later, he would have to find some way to work exercise into his daily schedule, not only the executive gym but also someone to spar with, someone to shoot against. His bodyguards, one a flight ahead and one a flight behind, would probably be ideal.

At the eleventh floor, the stairway door opened around the corner from the elevators. Rafe’s forward guard stopped before turning and produced a small flat screen connected to a fiber-optic wand with a lens in the end. Rafe peered over his shoulder as he extended it around the corner. Someone was waiting, positioned to watch the elevator…someone suited, but with an ominous bulge under his jacket. A receptionist, pale and immobile, sat perched on the edge of her chair to one side. The bodyguard glanced back at Rafe and cocked his head. Rafe shrugged and ran a finger along his own throat.

A moment later he heard a soft
phut!,
then the sound of a body hitting the floor, and a cry, quickly cut off. The guard extended the wand again. The man was down, not yet dead but clearly dying; the receptionist had both hands to her mouth and looked about to faint.

The bodyguards both went ahead. No one else was in sight; no one popped out from behind one of the ornamental plants. Rafe followed, smiling at the receptionist.

“Sera Contado? Most upsetting for you; I’m so sorry. You’ll want some time off to recover—”

“Please—I don’t want to look—”

“Of course not. Come over here.” He took hold of her chair and swung it around so she faced the striped curtains at the windows. “Was he here when you got here?”

She nodded, her mouth trembling. “He—he must have been hiding…around the corner…I was in early; I always come in early, and I knew…I thought…you’re new…I wanted to be here…”

“That was very thoughtful of you,” Rafe said, in his gentlest voice.

“And I was sitting here, sorting the calls that had come in, just as I always do…did…for your father. I mean, I’m not his assistant or anything, but the calls do come to me first, and I do my best…”

“I’m sure you do. So you were sitting here sorting calls…”

“Yes. By urgency, you understand. Things you’d need to know about immediately. And…and then…I just saw a sort of shadow and he was beside me, and he had a weapon…he said he’d kill me if I moved, and I didn’t move; I couldn’t move; I was so scared…”

“Of course,” Rafe murmured. Whatever his guards were doing, the sound of harsh rattling breath had stopped. “And you’re still frightened, of course you are. I’m going to call down for some tea—”

“Don’t leave me!” Her eyes, as well as her voice, begged him.

“I’m not leaving.”

“There’s…there’s hot beverage service here always…I could make…”

She would fall over if she tried to stand; she was trembling.

“Just tell me where it is,” Rafe said. “I can make tea.”

“Not you! You’re—you’re the Chairman!”

Rafe grinned at her, keeping it friendly. “Even chairmen can boil water. Is it there? In that cabinet?” He had spotted the concealed doors. She nodded. “Then you sit right there—I’ll just be a few meters away—and we’ll start this day over with a nice cup of tea.” Into which, if he was lucky, he could pour the something stronger he expected would be in the same cabinet.

He glanced at his bodyguards; one was still kneeling beside the corpse; the other was watching him. When he opened the doors, he saw immediately where the man had hidden. The cabinet was intended to house not only a hot drinks service, but cleaning supplies for the reception area as well. The marks of a vacuum and bucket were clear on the floor, but that side was empty. The hot drinks service was in working order, and in less than a minute Rafe handed Sera Contado a fat gray mug with the ISC logo in blue and gold. The intruder had emptied the bottle of brandy he’d hoped to use, but the sugar he’d poured into her tea should help.

“We’ll need to get this to forensics,” one of the bodyguards said.

“We should give law enforcement a chance,” Rafe said. “They’re probably not all bent.”

“Whatever you say, sir.”

“One of you come with me. I want to get Sera Contado out of here before you…move anything.”

His father’s office looked the way Rafe had always imagined it, the way vid shows depicted the offices of senior executives in major corporations. The outer office, with two desks for the assistants and a small seating area for those waiting a meeting with the CEO. The inner office, a large carpeted space with a desk that seemed, at first glance, as big as some of the ship cabins Rafe had traveled in. The seating area, with its small couches arranged around a low table…the vase of fresh flowers there…the bookcases…the windows, with their curtains. A door led into a small passage with a bathroom—a full bath, he noticed—on one side, and a compact kitchen on the other. Beyond was a meeting room, smaller than the Boardroom but still big enough for ten people to sit around the oval table.

And now it was his space. His domain. The domain he had never wanted…or the domain he had not let himself want, knowing it was impossible. It felt too big and too limited at the same time. He handed Sera Contado to one of the soft couches, putting her mug down on the table for her, and crossed to the desk. The top was bare, a smooth expanse of flame-grain wood with smoked-glass inserts for the desk displays.

“I’m going to call down to the infirmary,” he said to her. “They can send up a nurse…and of course you’ll take the day off.”

“Oh, but I can’t,” she said. “I can’t afford—” Her cheeks turned red.

“It won’t count against you,” Rafe said. “Think of it as…as a reward for your bravery. You should be proud of yourself. You didn’t scream; you didn’t faint.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I—I didn’t, did I? I thought I would. I thought,
I can’t stand this,
and then…I’m still here.”

“I think you should at least rest in the infirmary for a while,” Rafe said. “We need to check the building, and make sure you will be safe when you leave. Is that all right with you?”

“I’m feeling much better…I don’t think I need to rest.” But her breath still came too fast; her color came and went.

“Just for a little while,” Rafe said. “You don’t have to lie down, if you don’t want. Just give us a chance to check things out.”

By the time the nurse arrived, Rafe was already engulfed in the day’s crises. The police were on the way; nothing should be moved. The building security staff, with rough guidance from Gary’s people, were moving through every space—every space they knew about, Rafe thought—with speed that he hoped wouldn’t let them miss something important. No other intruders had been found yet.

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

Adelaide System

As her small fleet moved slowly to the outer reaches of Adelaide System, Ky sent Ransome’s Rangers to scout out three different systems within a one-jump range. She didn’t expect to find pirates in any of them; it was more a test of the Rangers’ ability and willingness to do what they were told—and of the ansibles’ performance across much greater distances.

The Ranger ships jumped out as soon as they had cleared the mass limit; Ky did not expect to hear from them for days. She had ordered all the larger ships to move slowly so that there would be ample time to receive reports before reaching the mapped jump point. Five days later,
Furious
reported from its target system. The ansible signal was as clear as if they were alongside; the report, as she’d expected, was of an empty system with a single relay ansible, nonfunctional. Ky put a note in the navigation tables and told
Furious
to return to the group.
Courageous
reported in only twelve hours later, with the same news, and Ky called them back as well.

Glorious
had gone the farthest: it was the direction Ky wanted to take the fleet, heading back toward the area where Vatta had trade routes. In the navigation database, that system was also uninhabited, with a relay ansible now off-list. Because of the six-day jump lag, a report from the system would be at least twelve days out of date before they could arrive, but Captain Ransome still needed the practice in using the shipboard ansible. His report was the same as the others: empty system, as expected.

Furious
reappeared in Adelaide System; Ky watched the scan as Captain St. Cyrien dumped excess velocity, microjumped to realign his vector, and reappeared precisely where she had asked him to go.

“Very neat handling,” she transmitted to him.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said. “Have you heard from Teddy?”

“What we expected. He should be back here within the next twelve hours.”

Courageous
also reappeared on schedule, and came into position neatly on their other side. Finally, only two hours from their planned jump into FTL,
Glorious
reappeared.

“Great news, Captain Vatta!” Ransome looked indecently boyish as he threw her an elaborate salute. “There’s no problem at all. In fact, you have friends there—”

“Friends?”

“Yes. Mackensee Military Assistance Corporation just arrived as I was getting ready to jump out. I have their transition profile if you’d like to see it. We also picked up a bit of chatter. They’re going to be training there. Brilliant of you to anticipate where they’d be.”

Ky blinked. She’d had no idea Mackensee would be training in that system.

“Did you contact them?” she asked.

“Oh, no. You said we should act as scouts, and scouts should not announce themselves—or should we have?”

“No, you did quite right,” Ky said. “Though you could have contacted me by ansible with that update.” She noticed that Ransome’s crew had moved
Glorious
quickly into position with deft microjumps. These little ships might prove useful after all…“Their scans probably picked you up, but if you were on the way out they might have ignored it.”

He made a dramatic gesture. “I should have thought of that—they wouldn’t have known if I’d used the ansible. I was thinking they might intercept, and we were being scouts, so I shouldn’t risk being overheard.”

“That’s all right,” Ky said. “It’s a new technology to you; you’ll think of it next time. We’re about to jump out, then, if you’re ready.”

“Quite ready, I assure you. Mapped point to mapped point, it’s exactly six point three days of FTL transit.”

“Switch to Channel F, then,” Ky said, and gave the order to the other ships. “We want to exit with low relative velocity,” she said to them all. “Captain Ransome reports that Mackensee Military Assistance Corporation is training in that system; they will have their own scouts out, and we don’t want to be attacked as pirates before we have a chance to explain. I’m going to assume that—despite Captain Ransome’s care—they might have spotted his outbound jump and might have planted mines at the jump point. Synchronize navigation computers—” She hoped this would work with ships of such disparate mass. No reason why it shouldn’t, but…

They reached transition simultaneously, and during the next six days of FTL isolation Ky kept her crew busy. If they were to meet Mackensee in that system—if the MMAC ships were still there—she wanted to present a military appearance without, however, getting killed out of hand.

They all emerged from the jump point within seconds of one another, still in formation. Ky heaved a sigh of relief as the last ship reported in, even before scan cleared. “Captain Ransome, detail one of your ships to stay with our transport,” she said. She could not leave the unarmed transport with no protection. “Everyone else, formation Zeta-blue, but slowly—when your scan clears, watch for mines.”

The mines showed up when scan cleared: five clusters, spaced to allow lanes between them for those who either knew the locations or were slow enough, with good enough scan, to avoid them.

“Is that Mackensee’s standard toss-out?” Hugh asked her.

“I don’t know,” Ky said. “But it’s not like what I saw at Sabine. Of course, I didn’t have the scan capability then that we have here. It’s an effective distribution, though…”

Other scan data came in; at first glance the system was full of ships of all sizes and types.

“Mackensee?” Ky asked.

“No. The Mackensee ships are there—” Hugh pointed. “They’ve got clear beacons; they’re not hiding who they are. These are something else. That new software you loaded thinks most are bogeys—drones, signal emitters, stuff tossed out to be confusing. There’s at least four actual ships, but with fogged beacons, which doesn’t look good. And microjumping—here—here—there. Looks like an attack pattern to me. They’ve pincered the Mackensee ships…”

Ky’s mouth went dry; she swallowed. “Pirates, then. Attacking Mackensee—they’ll get a surprise—”

“Maybe not. Look at the numbers.” Whatever they were, they outnumbered the Mackensee ships at least two to one, and when the weapons analysis came up, they outgunned them as well.

Ky hit the alarm. “Whatever it is, it’s trouble,” she said. Lights flashed for alert status; she saw the boards light with acknowledgments from Weapons. Number one battery was first, as usual.

“We jump out?” Hugh asked.

“Not yet,” Ky said. “I want to know what’s going on.”

“There’s more of them than us,” he pointed out.

“I know,” Ky said. She was not going to repeat the mistake she’d made with Osman. Ship ID beacons began to register. “Mackensee,” Ky said. “The two together there—” She pointed. “I know that beacon logo.”

“Right,” Hugh said. “I recognize it, too. But who are the others?”

“They have shipboard ansibles—they’ve got to be the enemy.” Her stomach tightened into the familiar knot. “And they weren’t expecting us.”

Clearing scan showed that four of the enemy were in the same attack formation they’d used before, their ships converging from either side, both pairs in echelon, with the Mackensee ships at the crossing of the X. “Tactical conservatives,” Hugh said.

“And we’re in position to hit them on the flank,” Ky said. If she wasn’t being rash again; if she wasn’t missing something deadly. This time she had to get it right. “Except for those—”

She indicated the other icons, still marked
UNKNOWN TYPE
,
UNKNOWN ORIGIN
.

“Those may not be ships,” Hugh said. “Like I said, we used to get scan data like that from drones or from holos. They don’t carry ID beacons, drones. They’re just there to be scary.”

Ky eyed them suspiciously. “I’d hate to discount them and then find that they’re firing up my tail.”

“True. And there are such things as towed arrays, or armed drones. But considering the way they’re arranged, I think they’re fakes. What’s our mass detector say?”

“We’re too far out still.” Ky chewed her lip. Four pirates against two Mackensee ships…the Macs might fight free; they were certainly capable, as she knew. And she had no duty to them. On the other hand, she did have a duty to destroy the enemy, as long as it didn’t mean losing her own ships. And she had wanted them as allies. “If those other icons are harmless drones or fakes of some kind…we’d make it five to four, not even counting the little ships, and I know the Mackensees aren’t going to sit there doing nothing.”

“Battle stations?” Hugh asked.

“Yellow only,” Ky said. “We have hours to go before we’re in range, and I don’t want to jump until we’re well clear of the mines and sure we aren’t jumping into worse. I hope Mackensee can hold out that long. Signal the others with the new code.” That now seemed a brilliant idea. Her spirits lifted. They had tactical surprise, secure communications, and a superior position. “We can take them, and if we get Mackensee on our side—”

“Crossing fire,” Hugh warned her.

“We’re far enough out to track it and avoid it,” Ky said. “We can define their plane.” The X-attack made things simpler for the attackers, who knew exactly where their own fire would go, but a third party could attack from off-plane, avoiding the original shots and also the intended victim.

She explained her plan to the other captains, who agreed with her analysis. “Three to four’s not bad odds,” Argelos said cheerfully.

“It’s five to four in our favor, really,” Ky said. “Not even counting our scouts. The Mackensee ships will fight, and fight well. We do have to let them know we’re on their side, though. And we can’t really communicate with them until we’re close enough for lightspeed to make sense. In the meantime, they have no reason to believe our beacons are honest, even if they notice us in the confusion.”

“When do you think the pirates will notice us?”

“Depends,” Ky said. “This isn’t a heavily used transfer jump point, so they may be concentrating on the Mackensee ships. And”—a thought suddenly hit her—“if they’re monitoring their drones or holos or whatever those other signals are, their scan tech may be too busy to notice new signals in the system. I wonder why the Mac ships aren’t moving faster—”

“Already disabled?”

“Or they had personnel on EVA,” Ky said. “If they were on a training mission, practicing EVA, they’d want to recover their personnel before they moved.”

“That just makes targets out of ’em,” Hugh said. “They can get roasted by passing fire…”

Vanguard
and
Bassoon
had military-grade microjump capability, but
Sharra’s Gift
did not. Argelos could jump his ship only in longer hops, with less precision. Ky made a mental note to find out what it would take to bring his ship up to military specs—later, maybe much later. Now she considered the relative advantages to keeping her little group together, and decided it was worth the risk to disperse them. “We can talk in real time all the way across the system,” she said. “There’s no reason for us to stick close. If we can position
Sharra’s Gift
on the exit side of their attack, to take them in the opposite flank—”

“Crossing fire,” Hugh said again.

“Different plane,” Ky said. “If we’re all above their plane, our fire will cross, but not on one another, nor theirs on ours.”

“Right,” Argelos said. “I can make that in one hop, pretty close. I think, anyway.” Ky hoped he was right.

“And we can come in with short hops,” she said to Pettygrew. “Here’s where we want to end up.” She pointed to the display. “With any luck, they’ll be too busy monitoring their own decoys or drones, and we’ll be able to blindside them.”

“What about us?” Ransome asked. “Where do you want us?”

Where he and the others wouldn’t interfere, but she couldn’t say that. “We need someone watching our backs,” she said. “
Furious
has to concentrate on the transport; we need someone watching our backs and also helping to trace weapons tracks. But you’re so maneuverable, I want you close enough to get off some shots if needed. I’d like
Courageous
here”—she pointed—“and
Glorious
there.”