Command Decision

by Elizabeth Moon

  “Good point,” Rafe said. He glanced at Penny. “How do you feel about a woman therapist, Penny?”

  “I…think I’d like that.”

  “Frieda’s solid, sensible…her background’s a little unusual, but she’s helped all my clients who have gone to her. Want me to give her a heads-up?”

  “I was going to call her right away, but—yes.” Gary, Rafe knew, had data collected from the site that he had not shared with Rafe, data from the abductors’ own files. Penny’s therapist should have that.

  “Go ahead; tell her we were the extrication team, and that I’ll forward the usual background data.”

  Rafe called the woman’s office. When he explained who he was, that his sister had been held hostage, and gave Gary’s name, the therapist came online at once. She was a middle-aged woman, with streaks of white in her hair. “Let me speak to her, please,” she said to Rafe. “It is her therapy. And if you could give her some privacy…?”

  Rafe called Penny over to the console and walked out to Emil’s desk, bemused that someone he hadn’t actually hired yet was giving him orders.

  “How’s she doing?” Emil asked in a tone that made Rafe give him a longer look.

  “As well as can be expected…Emil, are you falling for her?”

  Emil looked startled. “No, sir. I just…she seems like such a nice girl—woman—and she’s had such an awful experience.”

  “You’re right, and that’s exactly why she shouldn’t have even such a paragon as you trying to get too close to her too soon.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it, sir. I just hope…things go well for her from now on.”

  Rafe looked at Emil’s earnest face and thought about saying more, but Emil was so young. And probably had a girl already, or a string of them. “Just be kind to her,” he said.

  “All right, Rafe, come on back,” Penny called. The monitor was blank; she had ended the call. “I don’t know if I like her, exactly, but…I feel good about her. I told her that I’d moved out of the house and she said that was a healthy decision.” She paused. “I—I hope you don’t mind my talking to her without you.”

  “Not at all,” Rafe said. “She’s your therapist; there’s no reason for me to know everything you say to each other.”

  The rest of that day passed in a blur; the conference with the sector commanders on readiness, a call to Mackensee’s local representative, another conference with the nearest sector commander on tactical analysis of the battle, plus the new Control supervisor wanting authorization for all the overtime doubling shifts would require, and queries from news media about the change in CEO.

  He was just wondering whether to have a late supper sent up or go somewhere when his mother called. She looked haggard, and her voice shook. “Rafe! How could you! Firing Doctor Bradon like that—he’s one of the most prominent therapists in the city. He called me—he was so upset. He says you’re not fit to take charge of Penelope, that your separating her from her family means you want to control her. Rafe, I know you’re not as bad as he says, but—”

  “Mother, please.” Rafe took a deep breath. “Listen—Doctor Bradon was affiliated with the same therapist who caused me so much grief. More important than that, Penny didn’t feel comfortable with him. She has a new therapist, someone Gary recommended—”

  “Gary—?”

  “The man who commanded the team that got you out. He is the system expert on hostage extrication; he has a list of therapists he knows who are particularly skilled in helping people recover from that experience. Penny’s already talked to one, and decided to try her for a time.”

  “Doctor Bradon said you might say something like that, and he said if she got a new therapist it must not be a woman…that she has issues which require a male therapist…”

  “I looked this woman up,” Rafe said. He didn’t need to tell her it was after Penny had already decided. “She has multiple publications in reputable journals on issues relating to the care of survivors of serious trauma. She has taught in two medical schools, and is still on the adjunct faculty of one of them.”

  “Oh.”

  “Mother, I am not interested in controlling Penny. I do want her to heal from all this as quickly and as thoroughly as possible…and that wasn’t going to happen in the same house where she saw her husband killed.”

  “I just wanted things to be like they were…” His mother was crying now. “I thought if…and Doctor Bradon says she needed to confront her fear…”

  “I’ll give you the names of the therapists Gary recommends,” Rafe said. “You can see for yourself that they have solid credentials.”

  “I just want…” Her voice choked off. Rafe squeezed his own eyes shut and waited. What she wanted was impossible, as impossible as his child’s wish for that awful night to have been a dream. Or his wish now that the abduction had never happened, that he could have come home to have a cool but nonhostile conversation with his father, perhaps visit the house to have a meal…and then gone back to his own life, far away from Nexus.

  “You must think I’m crazy,” his mother said finally. “Crying like this. It’s over. I should be over it.”

  “No,” Rafe said. “I don’t think you’re crazy.” His stomach growled, reminding him that dinner was long overdue. He had been hungrier before, he told himself.

  “The house is so…so empty. So…big. And your father…”

  Rafe had a moment’s terror that she was thinking of moving into headquarters with his father…the thought of all of them here…

  “But we have to stay; we have to show we aren’t afraid.”

  “Mother, all you and Father have to do is recover. You don’t have to prove anything to me or anyone else. If you need to go to…” He racked his brain. They had had a summer cabin in the mountains, but it was too much like the resort where they’d been held, logs and all. “Why not that place in the islands? The warm water would be good for Father; you know the house is cold and relatively isolated in winter. Some of your friends are probably down there already.”

  She said nothing for a long moment; he was afraid she’d start crying again. “Rafe, I…you may be right. I’ll talk to the doctors…I don’t know what Doctor Bradon will say…”

  “I’ll check with Gary and see if one of the therapists he recommends is in the area. I’m sure we can find someone, and Father’s medical team can travel with him. If this is what you decide.”

  “I—I’ll think about it. I really will. I’m just so…so tired all the time these days.”

  “Of course you are,” Rafe said. “But some time in the warmth and sun might help you more than this gloomy cold.” She had always loved the tropics.

  “My houseplants—”

  “We can get a plant service in to take care of them.”

  She sighed. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe…and it’s only going to get colder. I’ll look up some of the places, see if anything’s open.”

  For the wife of ISC’s former CEO, someplace would be open, if he had to bribe someone to cut their own vacation short. “That’s what I have a personal assistant for,” Rafe said. “Let me take care of it.”

  “Would you?”

  “Yes, but not without checking with you to be sure it’s what you want. I’m not trying to force you into anything—” Not much, he told himself. He wanted his parents out of the city, into someplace safe, and out of his hair. Yes, he believed it would be good for them to be out of that house, with all its toxic memories, and into a warmer climate…but he was still manipulating them with all the skill he had used on unsuspecting marks before. And he knew it.

  “Thank you, dear,” his mother said. “I’ll just let you take care of it, then. I know it’s the high season, but if you could, something with a view—”

  “I’m sure we can find something you like,” Rafe said. After his mother clicked off, he put a note in Emil’s file. Perhaps he could get through supper without another crisis. A night’s sleep was probably too much to hope for. />
  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-THREE

  That depressing prediction came true in the middle of the night, when he was woken with the news that the Mackensee home system ansible was now functional.

  “I knew you’d want to know right away,” the communications tech said.

  “What’s the time conversion?” Rafe asked, yawning.

  “For Mackensee headquarters? It’s about midafternoon there…” Rafe heard someone in the background tell the tech to be accurate. “Um…it should be 1430 there, sir, but I don’t know if they have seasonal time changes.”

  “Thank you,” Rafe said. It was 0213 here, and his eyes felt gritty. He lay back and closed them, but his mind raced. He was awake. He was far too awake to go back to sleep. Sighing, he sat up. He was in one of the small guest rooms for lower-ranking overnight guests: comfortable enough but dull, all tans and browns with a single landscape print on the wall. The adjoining bath unit was compact; he showered and dressed, adjusting his suit carefully. A CEO should look like a CEO, his father had always said.

  In his office, he set up the secure ansible relay and took a moment to review what ISC knew about Mackensee’s current chief. A senior executive in Enforcement had been sent as a personal representative, and had completed a detailed assessment of Arlen Becker, the current CEO. He was still listed: Mackensee’s CEOs usually served for five local years in that position. Rafe scanned the file. Becker’s profile fit what he’d expected; the man looked like the retired general he was. He had kept himself fit; his implant bulges were almost concealed by silvering hair. And Mackensee, proven innocent in the Sabine affair, had retrieved their bond in its entirety.

  No more delay. Rafe activated the link. The first face on the screen wasn’t Becker’s, of course, but the assistant quickly put Rafe through.

  “You’re not Garston Dunbarger,” Becker said.

  “No. I’m his son, Rafe. My father is…not competent at present.”

  “Oh? I’m not sure I like the sound of that.” Becker’s eyes narrowed. “Family problems?”

  “He was abducted and severely injured,” Rafe said. “His implant was destroyed, and he’s undergoing intensive rehabilitation after neuro-implant surgery. Lew Parmina, whom you may have talked to—my father’s chief assistant and intended to be his successor as CEO—was responsible.”

  “I see. And where were you?”

  “Offplanet when it happened,” Rafe said. “You may have heard that I was a renegade, a remittance man; unofficially, I was on assignment for ISC, my father’s clandestine eyes and ears. When he didn’t contact me at the usual interval, I made my way back to Nexus—delayed by such things as that little incident Ky Vatta got us into with Osman Vatta.”

  “Ah. That. Yes…though my commander didn’t report you as being involved…”

  “I was using an alias. If you check that report, you’ll find mention of a young man named Rafe who was able to fix ansibles and claimed to be an ISC agent.”

  “You’re the one? Yes, I do recall that. And you’re Garston’s son?”

  “Yes. I am acting CEO while he is incapacitated.”

  “I see. I presume this is about your…encounter with the Blueridge Defense Alliance pirates and some of our ships?”

  “Related to that, yes. I presume your commanders on the scene have told you what they’ve learned about those pirates?”

  “Yes. Not all the data have been analyzed yet, but I am aware that pirates invaded and defeated Bissonet System as well as several other less populous systems, and that at least some of the ships in this recent encounter were originally Bissonet ships.”

  “And I’m sure your commanders told you about the abysmal performance of the ISC fleet,” Rafe said. Becker merely grunted his assent, and Rafe went on. “One of the things I did when first taking over here was assess the response capability of our fleet. It wouldn’t do any good to try to conceal from you what I found—and what your commanders saw.”

  “One of your ships blew because its munitions exploded just outside the ship,” Becker said. “Did you know that?”

  “Yes. Old stuff that had degraded in storage.”

  “How long have you been in charge?”

  “Only a few tendays,” Rafe said.

  “So…you know that I know what you know…what is it you want?” And what are you willing to pay? said his expression.

  “Did your commander tell you about the new technology that the Space Defense Force ships have? Onboard ansibles that can provide real-time communications between ships?”

  “He said something like that; I’m dubious. You people have always said it was impossible.”

  “It’s not. I’ve seen it myself; I know it works—”

  “It’s ISC tech?”

  “No, unfortunately. The patent holder is Vatta Enterprises, associated with the new Vatta Transport headquarters on Cascadia, over in the Moscoe Confederation. We’re trying to get a license to manufacture it.”

  “I see. So you just want to chat about it?”

  “No. I assume you’re interested in obtaining some of these units…”

  “I would be, once I’m convinced they exist and work as described.”

  “And I assume you’d like to take care of the pirates who mauled your ships—”

  “Not as badly as they mauled your ships.” Pride stiffened Becker’s tone.

  “No argument on that. But I see these pirates as a danger to more than your company, or my company, or any one system—I believe they are indeed intent on dominating as much of human space as possible, and that the widespread ansible failure is at least in part their doing. It’s allowed them to strike without warning, to gain ships and other matériel, and grow ever more dangerous.”

  “I’d agree,” Becker said. “I believe I can anticipate your next suggestion. You think we should all join together to wipe them out…is that it?”

  “Yes. I know that Ky Vatta had a similar idea—which, frankly, I thought was outrageous at the time—”

  “A very gifted young commander, my people tell me,” Becker said, pursing his lips. “Too young and inexperienced for what she’s trying to do, but she did save some of our people in this most recent engagement. You were on her ship—what do you think of her?”

  Rafe opened his mouth, then paused. What came into his head was nothing Becker needed to know. “She’s…young in years,” he said slowly. “But she’s been through a lot, and she’s not immature. Intelligent, of course. Can be impulsive, but less so than when I first joined her ship…more decisive than impulsive now, I’d say. Ethically—pretty much a straight arrow. I’d say perfectly willing to use deception in combat, but not to lie in ordinary situations.”

  “One of my commanders, back in the Sabine mess, was concerned that she had a weakness common to many young female commanders…going soft on boys with problems.”

  “Ky? Well, that’s changed, if she ever had it. I’d say she’s nearly immune to that kind of thing. Her cousin told me she’d had a bad experience with a first love.”

  “So you’d trust her in a command setting?”

  “I already have,” Rafe said. “Remember, I was on her ship when Osman Vatta tried to take it over.”

  “Do you think she’s got a chance with this Space Defense Force she’s started?”

  Rafe shrugged. “I don’t know. To most people, she’ll appear just as you said: too young, too inexperienced. But results count more than appearances, in the long run. The last time I saw her, she had one ship but had already found one ally. Now she has—what, five?—and she’s survived more than one space battle. If she can convince systems to work with her, and get funding, I’d bet on her.”

  “But you’re talking to me,” Becker said with a sly smile.

  Rafe grinned. “You’re quite right. Ky may have a powerful force in the future, but you have one right now and my concern is immediate. Nexus is a rich, populous system and the communications hub for most of human-occupied space. If that d
oesn’t define target—”

  “That’s true,” Becker said, nodding. “And you’ve just learned that ISC’s famous fleet is a bunch of bright shiny obsolescent window decorations…so you want to hire us, is that it?”

  “Nexus government has an interest,” Rafe said. “So, I’m sure, does the Moscoe Confederation. Do you have the resources to take another major contract?”

  “That is a question,” Becker said. “I’ll need to check on some things. We can’t cheat current contract partners. I’m sure we could contribute something, but right off the top of my head I don’t know how much.”

  Rafe was sure he did, but understood the reluctance to make that commitment too soon.

  “It won’t come cheap,” Becker added.

  “Of course not,” Rafe said. “You’re one of the top mercenary companies, if not the best. I might just suggest that payment in kind—say, some of those onboard ansibles—could be arranged as part of your fee.”

  “I’ll get back to you,” Becker said. “Let’s see, it’s—good heavens, man, it’s the middle of the night for you.”

  “It’s been one of those days,” Rafe said, shrugging. “I’ll catch some sleep later.”

  Slotter Key

  “The news from Cascadia is not good,” Grace Lane Vatta said. The new President raised his eyebrows.

  “What’s wrong with Cascadia?”

  “Nothing yet. But the following systems are known to have fallen to pirate hordes—” She handed over a list. “And there is evidence that they are led by the same person who attacked Slotter Key civilians from space.”

  “You mean, who attacked your family.”

  “It was my family, yes, but the important point to me as Rector of Defense, and you, as President, is that they attacked Slotter Key. Attacked the planet itself, killing and injuring thousands of Slotter Key citizens. Including many Vatta employees who were not members of my family.”

  Erran Kostanyan sighed. “I suspect you’re about to suggest an official action that you want me to approve.”

  “Slotter Key maintains a privateer system,” Grace said. “A system that has been reasonably successful in keeping the general level of piracy—the one or two ships attacking our trade—to a minimum. As the data show piracy was increasing in several sectors prior to the attack on Vatta interests; concern had been expressed, and the previous administration had even authorized an increase in the number of letters of marque some months before the attack. That was later rescinded, only about forty-five days before.”