Command Decision

by Elizabeth Moon

  The rest of that shift and the next, crew and hired cargo haulers moved the missiles into Vanguard’s docking bays. One by one, the missiles were upgraded…an average of forty-five minutes per missile per tech. Six crew had the skills, but there was room for only four to work at one time. Ky let Hugh determine the most efficient use of their time and space; she needed to convince her other captains of the value of Ransome’s Raiders.

  “I know why you’re keeping all those missiles,” Argelos said as they sat down to lunch in the Captains’ Guild dining area. “I agree—you need them more, and we need you to be fully supplied. But this fellow Ransome and his schoolboy chums—”

  “I think they’ll be useful,” Ky said, dipping a spoon in her soup. “I’ve told them to go out and keep watch while we do some training, and one of them will be watching us, supposedly to critique, but actually to learn something about multiship maneuvers.”

  “I suppose that can’t hurt,” Pettygrew said.

  “We’re understrength and vulnerable,” Ky said. “You know that. Even with the supply ship Adelaide and the refugees gave us, we have only three warships, less than half what we had before. Ransome’s three gives us at least three more sets of ears and eyes.”

  “I just don’t see him—or those friends of his—being much use in a real fight.”

  “I’m not counting on them for that. They might surprise us, but even if they don’t, the enemy may waste some time on them. It’s an advantage, even if a tiny one. And they paid for the missiles.”

  Argelos’ eyebrows went up. “All of them?”

  “Yes. All of them. The one thing we know they have is money, and they’re willing to spend it on us. I don’t want to overdo it, but right now we are short, as you know. What we really need is system governments to chip in, but until that happens—”

  “If it ever does,” Pettygrew said.

  “It will, though possibly not before we’re random space dust. However, in the meantime, we need to make use of every economic opportunity, and it strikes me that this is an economic opportunity. They want to play, and they’re willing to pay.”

  “I see your point,” Argelos said. “It’s fine with me, then. We still don’t have enough munitions to waste any on target practice, though—not until we’re somewhere we can resupply.”

  “I know. But we can work on calibrating our navigation systems, our scans—and using our communications devices. And I don’t know about your ships, but my crew can use more drills on everything from inboard emergencies to boarding situations.”

  “We worked on that on the way here,” Pettygrew said. “But yes. What about EVA drills?”

  “Certainly,” Ky said. “I made a preliminary schedule—preliminary because we’re still upgrading and loading missiles, and also because I wanted your input.” She handed over the hardcopies.

  “This looks good,” Argelos said after a moment. “My military adviser wanted to be sure there was practice in precision microjumps…you’ve got that…and scan calibration…you’ve got that…”

  “We’re going to look like idiots at some of this,” Pettygrew said. “But I notice you don’t have any close-formation practice.”

  “With so few of us, we can’t risk it,” Ky said. “You’ll find I’ve suggested close approaches—slowly—for the EVA work. But we can’t fight in close formation, where a hull breach of one ship could take out the next. What we need to know is how to position ourselves in open formation to cover one another.”

  “Makes sense,” Pettygrew said.

  “And I have a surprise,” Ky said.

  “What’s that?” Argelos asked.

  “Remember we’d planned to get ship patches for the new organization at Gretna? And some kind of official-looking seal for the gangways and such? I used some of the money Ransome gave me for that.” She signaled a waiter. “Here’s the tag for my bag in the cloakroom,” she told him. “Please bring it.”

  When he returned and set the bag beside her chair, Ky opened it and pulled out two patches, handing one to each of the others. “You already have ship patches on your personnel…these can be sewn above them.”

  “That was Bellinger’s design, wasn’t it?” Pettygrew asked, eyes alight.

  “Yes. All I did was add the lettering for Space Defense Force, Third Fleet. You like them?”

  “Impressive,” Argelos said, fingering the one she had handed him. “My crew will like it, too.”

  “There are plaques for the ships, as well,” Ky said. “Three for each ship, at this time. One should go at the gangway, one on the bridge, and one wherever you think best.”

  “Same design?”

  “Not exactly. They were too big to bring with me; they’re being delivered to your ships. I did tell Ransome about this, by the way.”

  Over the next few days, as the missile conversion went slowly forward, Ky noticed the new patches on the crews of all three ships as they went about the station. To her eye, they moved more confidently, more purposefully.

  “Captain! There’s something on the onboard ansible!”

  Ky rolled out of bed, her eyes sticky with fatigue. They had finally finished the missile conversions, but she had stayed up to supervise. The other captains knew that; no one should be calling her now.

  “It’s supposed to be first-shift where you are,” Stella said when Ky made it to the console; she looked as beautiful as ever, perfectly groomed, and wide awake. “I checked. And this is a secure connection, by the way.”

  “I’ve been up two days,” Ky said. “You couldn’t have known.” Trust Stella to use the onboard ansible to chat, just because Ky had given her the new channel codes. She yawned.

  “Trouble?” Stella frowned.

  “No. Just some urgent business. You have news?”

  “Slotter Key’s ansible is back up. Have you noticed?”

  “No…when did that happen?”

  “Just a couple of days ago. Aunt Grace called me. She’s in the government somehow. Defense Department.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Ky said. “What did she do, kill off all the traitors?”

  Stella looked shocked. “She didn’t say that…and if she had, surely she’d be in jail.”

  Ky snorted. “Not our Aunt Gracie. She could’ve just fed them fruitcake with rocks in it or something. What else?”

  “They’ve laid the cornerstone for the new Vatta headquarters. She says it won’t be ready for occupancy for a standard year or more, and I should just stay where I am. And Ky—she thinks I should be CEO. Permanently.”

  “So do I,” Ky said.

  “But I told her I was too young.”

  “And she said don’t be ridiculous, didn’t she? I can just hear her saying that.”

  “Something like that yes. She thinks I’m doing well so far.”

  “You’re doing far better running the company than I am fighting a war,” Ky said. “And much better than I’d do with the company. Are other ansibles coming up? Did ISC say anything?”

  “ISC didn’t do the repairs on Slotter Key’s ansible, Aunt Grace said. Slotter Key Spaceforce did. So far ISC hasn’t said anything at all.”

  “They will,” Ky said. She rubbed her forehead with the heel of one hand, trying to wake all the way up. “Especially if there’s something seriously wrong in ISC. Speaking of that, have you had any messages from Rafe on Nexus? He was going to ask his father what was wrong.”

  “Not a word,” Stella said. “I haven’t tried to contact him myself, either. He was going incognito; I didn’t want to arouse any interest.”

  “Oh…that’s right. But ISC must have something dire going on internally. I’m glad we’re not dependent on them anymore. If they’ve really lost control of their people—and Rafe thought they had, at least of some of them—”

  “Which brings me to Toby’s latest fit of genius,” Stella said, looking smug. “He’s managed to create an interface between his version of the shipboard ansibles and system ansibles. And as nea
r as he can tell, it’s not detected by the system ansibles.”

  “What? That’s…that’s impossible.”

  “I’m beginning to think that with Toby, nothing technical is impossible,” Stella said. “I know his talents were supposed to lie in space drives, but seeing what he’s done with ansible technology, I wonder if that doesn’t mean he’s going to invent an instantaneous space drive, like, two days ago or something.”

  “Good…heavens.” Ky realized that Hugh was looking at her oddly; her face must show the astonishment she felt.

  “Of course it means his mess is spread over half the apartment as well as a sort of lab at the office here, and I keep telling him that the next time I step on something that crunches or goes sping under my foot I’m going to throw it all out, but he knows I’m not serious. He thinks all this is fun…I have no idea how they contained all his energy back on his apprentice voyage. Scutwork, I suppose. At any rate, it gives us an enormous trading advantage, if we mount this technology on Vatta ships.”

  “And an economic advantage if we sell the units…how fast can you manufacture them?”

  “At the moment, Toby’s making each one by hand. I have three—this one in the office, two more at home. I don’t have the capital yet to manufacture them in quantity, and if ISC finds out, I expect trouble.”

  “Rafe knows we have the basic models,” Ky said. “He said those conformed to ISC designs, though he was sure they were being made by someone else. If Toby’s advanced the technology, the least you should do is get patents on it.”

  “I’m looking into that. Because the Moscoe Confederation is so close to Nexus, though, they look with some suspicion on anything that might infringe on ISC territory.”

  “Mmm. Did ISC ever patent the shipboard ansible technology?”

  “They must have; they’re not stupid. At least the components, if not the final product. And intellectual property lawyers cost an incredible amount. I’ve got one, but I’m running out of funds to pay him. I’m going to ask Aunt Grace…”

  “No—wait. Just let me think.” She hadn’t yet told Ransome about the shipboard ansibles…and she had enough left to give him one for each of his ships. She’d planned to do so, in fact. But if he bought them…She gave Stella a quick outline of Ransome’s Rangers and her agreement with them. “Give me a price,” she said finally. “This is the old version, the ISC version, but—”

  “But you’re the only source except the pirates, Ky. One-of-a-kind items…let’s see, I need at least fifty hours of legal representation…divided by three…and a cushion you can bargain down from…” Stella named a sum that made Ky blink.

  “That much?”

  “If we don’t ask, we don’t get it. We can try, anyway. It’s Vatta trade goods, right? And you’re a Vatta captain. So that’s the price I authorize you to sell at.”

  “Actually, at this point I’m the commander of a detachment of Space Defense Force’s Third Fleet,” Ky said.

  “What is Space Defense Force? I never heard of it.”

  “We have pretty patches,” Ky said, grinning. “And big fancy plaques hanging on the bulkheads.”

  “And if I said I’d bet on the first and second fleets existing only in your fertile imagination?”

  “And the imaginations of a few other people,” Ky said. “But you’d be right, in principle. Nonetheless, I will sell the ansibles at the price you recommend, boss. We need those patents, and then we need those advanced ansibles. ISC will just have to eat our dust. Since they still haven’t fixed all the ansibles they’ve got, I’m betting they have enough other problems to worry about.”

  “I hope so,” Stella said. “Aunt Grace also mentioned that she’s met your Master Sergeant MacRobert and approves of him. She said not to worry about your letter of marque.”

  “With her in the government, of course not. We’ll be on maneuvers here in Adelaide Group for a little while, Stella; I’ll let you know how the sale of communications equipment goes.”

  Ky had consulted with Argelos and Pettygrew, making sure she fully understood the performance characteristics of their ships; now the three set off for the first real training they’d done as a group since that disastrous battle.

  Right away, she noticed that the new patches made a big difference in both morale and discipline. Those who really didn’t want to be in a space navy had already left, but the remaining civilians—former civilians now—had sewn on their patches eagerly and moved now with more decision. The other captains reported the same thing.

  It was three days before they had their scans calibrated to Ky’s satisfaction. “I’m being picky for a reason,” she said, when Pettygrew complained. “If I take a shot at someone with my beam, telling you the bearing of that beam, and you microjump four light-minutes in front of me and don’t microjump out within four minutes because on your scan you think my beam’s going to pass you a kilometer away, what will happen?”

  “I’ll…oh.”

  “And the same with missiles, to a degree. We’re not doing close formation; we’re going to be loose. That means we must know exactly—or at least consistently, from one ship to the other—where each ship is. Our navigational computers must be in sync; our targeting computers must be in sync. Errors of thousandths of a degree quickly expand to tens of thousands of kilometers—”

  “All right. I understand now. I just—”

  “It wouldn’t have happened the way Admiral Andreson wanted us to fight,” Ky said. “That’s an advantage of the formations you were using. The disadvantages, you know.”

  When the equipment had all been calibrated, Ky had them practice precision maneuvers, first with only one ship at a time. Accelerating on a mark; decelerating on a mark, while the others charted the movements and compared charts. Microjumps to specific coordinates. Repeated microjumps, or “skip-jumping.” Sharra’s Gift lacked the capability for calibrated and repeated microjumps; Ky and Argelos rewrote tactical plans to allow for the problem. Then the ships maneuvered in pairs, matching velocity, matching course. Meanwhile, she ordered drills for the crews inside, including every emergency she or Hugh or Martin or the other captains could think of. Fires, leaks of all kinds, injuries, illnesses, damage from weapons…

  Every day ended with a critique session in which Argelos and Pettygrew came to Vanguard to give their report on the day’s training activities, and Teddy Ransome, bright-eyed and eager, appeared on the vidscreen to give his version.

  On the fifth day, he said, “I’ve started my lads on some of those drills, Captain Vatta. We always did have fire drills, of course, but I never thought of leaking coolant fluid. And it sent us all into a tizzy, I don’t mind telling you, but we have it sorted out now. Not much you can’t handle with gaffer’s tape and a bent pin, you know…”

  Captain Argelos put his head in his hands.

  “I assume you’re talking about ingenuity and initiative,” Ky said. “Not actually fixing a leak in a high-pressure line with gaffer’s tape…”

  “Oh…well, yes. Matter of fact, we don’t even have any gaffer’s tape aboard, and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen any…it’s just an expression. Anyway, I thought you should know we aren’t just sitting about with our feet up watching you work.”

  “Excellent,” Ky said. “By the way, I’ve got something I’d like to talk to you about, not on an open channel. I’m sure your people are looking, but just in case there’s a pirate lurking somewhere—”

  “Certainly, certainly,” he said. “I’ll just bring the skimmer over, shall I? Whenever you wish.”

  “How about tomorrow, after the day’s work is done? It won’t take long, perhaps an hour or so.”

  “I’ll be there, Captain Vatta. And now, adieu!” He waved as he closed the connection.

  “He is a total and complete idiot,” Argelos said, looking up. “What are you planning to do, saw off the top of his head and pour in a sack of brains?”

  “At least he’s started drilling his crew,” Pettygrew said. �
��He may not be entirely lacking in intelligence.”

  “I want to sell him some shipboard ansibles,” Ky said.

  “You gave us ours free,” Pettygrew said.

  “That was you. You had just escaped from an enemy that destroyed your home system. This is different,” Ky said. “You weren’t bragging about how much money you got away with. Ransome’s thrown his around without restraint—I don’t see why he shouldn’t pay for them. Stella—my cousin, who runs the business—suggested a price.”

  “Should I know how much I’m beholden to you?” Pettygrew asked, brows raised.

  “No. You aren’t beholden to me at all, Dan.” She rarely used his given name; she noted his reaction—surprise, first, then a subtle relaxation. “You saved my ship as much as I saved yours.”

  “Thanks,” he said, a little gruffly.

  “Teddy Ransome’s a newcomer, and unknown, and for all I can tell as rich as the entire Vatta family used to be. He hasn’t earned any special consideration yet, and Stella needs the money.”

  “What’s ISC going to think of your selling shipboard ansibles?”

  Ky shrugged. “I don’t care. The ship and its contents were adjudicated to my possession. They certainly haven’t advertised any as missing, so I don’t think they’ll claim they were stolen.”

  The others looked at her. “You’re becoming devious,” Argelos said.

  Ky laughed. “Becoming?”

  “And she seemed like such a nice girl when I first met her,” Argelos said, shaking his head. “So—when do you think we’ll be ready to go chase down some pirates and get this war started?” He held up a hand. “Sorry…finished.”

  “Another few days,” Ky said. “You’re all shaping well. If we had the resources, I’d want some target practice, but we need every missile in stores. I will want your weapons crews using simulation patterns, though.”

  “And where do we go next?”

  “Talking to Councilor Malroy, I think we’re most likely to get support from systems like this—those that don’t maintain much in the way of system defense but are beginning to worry about the pirate menace. I’m also planning to send Ransome’s ships out as scouts a system or so ahead of us; with shipboard ansibles, they can report if they find any small groups of pirates, something we could reasonably hope to destroy. If we can prove that we can destroy small groups, that will get us some support—and more ships, I’ll bet—but we really need a good solid victory the next time out. The more Turek grabs, the more he’ll have to spread his forces to maintain control…there will be small groups, I’m sure.”