by David Weber
“Especially if we can get the shipping companies to settle into a fixed schedule or circuit,” Henderson added. “They’re more or less doing that now, of course, but they could certainly tighten things up a bit. If you know when a ship is likely to be coming in, and from what direction, you can send a corvette out to the hyper limit to meet it.”
“Assuming you have a corvette,” Nahnawa muttered.
“You escort it in, then escort it out again once the cargo’s been switched for the next batch,” Henderson continued, ignoring the interruption. “Neat and straightforward. If the pirates are lurking at that position, you’ll be in perfect position to take them out.”
“And if wishes were gold, we’d all be rich,” Nahnawa persisted. “Be reasonable, Captain. We haven’t nearly the resources to buy, maintain, and crew a ship like that.”
“I’m afraid we can’t help much with the crew or maintenance,” Flanders said, “aside from reminding you how much the loss of a single merchant’s cargo would mean for your economies.” He sent Henderson a significant look. “You may want to ask Captain Henderson later for the details of Casca’s losses in that regard. As to the initial outlay, though, if you’ll look at the price listings we gave you, you’ll see that we’re selling these ships at barely above scrap metal prices. Even the corvettes, which we’ll have to break apart, crate and ship, and reassemble, are being offered under cost.”
“That’s very generous of you,” Padua said, his eyes narrowed slightly. “May I ask why the Republic of Haven is suddenly so eager to help a group of minor worlds acquire warships?”
“The obvious reason is neighborliness,” Boulanger said. “We may be a couple of hundred light-years from some of you, but with the League over twice as far away this local group of systems is really all that we have. Your ability to defend yourselves makes for a quieter, more peaceful region, and stability is good for everyone.”
“Especially for those who actually own most of the shipping companies that are at risk?” Guzarwan asked pointedly.
“Of course that’s part of it,” Boulanger agreed without embarrassment. “But politics, security, and economics aren’t zero-sum games. The safer you are, the more you can focus on developing new products for the rest of us to buy, as well as raise your own standards of living enough to buy more from us. The fact that Haven happens to have the biggest slice of the local economic pie right now doesn’t mean much when the pie is continually getting bigger.”
“There’s one other factor to consider,” Eigen said quietly. “Hyperdrive technology and capabilities are being improved every day. It may not be long before ships will be able to access bands above Beta and Gamma, maybe even far above them. When that happens, we’ll all be much closer neighbors than we are now. The more we cement our friendships while we’re still distant, the better chance we’ll remain friends and allies when we’re only weeks apart.”
“An interesting choice of words, Captain Eigen,” Guzarwan said, his voice dark and suspicious as he eyed Eigen closely. “Ally implies a military situation. Is there something about all this you’re not telling us?”
“Ally also means partner or associate,” Flanders pointed out. “I’m sure that’s all Captain Eigen meant.”
“Or not,” Henderson said calmly. “Because in a sense he’s right. The tiered response I just outlined is based on mutual defense. But defense alone doesn’t win a war. At some point, the battle must be taken back to the enemy. Which is why…” He looked expectantly at Flanders. “Commodore?” he prompted.
Flanders inclined his head to the other. “Which is why,” he said, “as of thirteen hundred today, the Republic of Haven Naval Ship Péridot has officially become the Cascan Defense Force Ship—” He raised his eyebrows in silent question.
“Péridot will do for now,” Henderson said. “If my government chooses to rename her, we’ll do that later at her commissioning ceremony.”
Flanders nodded. “CDS Péridot, it is, then. May she serve you well in your hunt.”
“Thank you.” Henderson turned back to face the rest of the table, and it seemed to Metzger that he was standing just a little taller now in the Alpha Spin Section’s artificial gravity. “Because as I said, we aren’t going to just sit around and react to this threat,” he continued grimly. “If there’s a pirate gang working the region, they have to have a base. We, and CDS Péridot, intend to find that base.” He held out his hands, palms upward. “We hope we can count on your support in this endeavor. Financial and military support from those who can afford it; moral and logistical support from those who can’t.”
Metzger looked at Eigen. “A call to alliance,” she murmured.
He shook his head minutely. “A call to war,” he murmured back.
Metzger looked away again. A call to war…and there was no doubt that Henderson and the Cascans fully intended that the Star Kingdom be part of their pirate hunt. Possibly the biggest part.
And as all the various implications of that tumbled together through her mind, she realized that her father had indeed been right.
But at least the bait had been very tasty.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Cascans’ big announcement pretty much ended the meeting. Henderson said a few more stirring words, and wasted a minute or two with vague talk about joint strategies and rosy plans for the region’s future. But none of it meant anything without the approval of the various Parliaments, Senates, Diets, and Regents, all of which were far away, and none of which had sent anyone even remotely authorized to make any such sweeping deals. Everyone in the compartment knew it, which meant there wasn’t much point in continuing the conversation. Especially since all the food was gone.
Which was probably just as well. There were a dozen questions Guzarwan wanted to ask, none of which he dared speak aloud.
Starting with who the hell this other group was who’d decided to intrude on his territory.
Guzarwan’s clients on Canaan had assured him that he was the only pirate gang in town. Apparently, his clients didn’t know jack. Not only was someone else here, but they’d obviously been at it for several years.
Though in retrospect that revelation went a long way toward explaining why Haven had organized this ship sale in the first place. Guzarwan had puzzled long and hard about that. It had seemed such bizarre serendipity when Canaan first approached him and proposed this scheme.
Or maybe there was no luck to it at all. It was just barely possible that Canaan had engineered the piracy problem in a deliberate attempt to prod Haven into setting up this very sale.
Guzarwan snorted under his breath. No, that one wasn’t even barely possible. Not Canaan. Whether they’d known about the other pirates or not, the ship sale had surely been Haven’s idea.
Which was just as well. No collusion or manipulation by Canaan meant no trail for anyone to backtrack in the aftermath of the operation. And no trail to Canaan meant no trail to Guzarwan.
Still, he had to give a nod to the Cascan bean-sifters. Pirate operations that careful and leisurely should have continued for years before being noticed. Casca had been right on top of things, even if it had taken them a few years to recognize what exactly was happening.
And at the end of the day, all that mattered was that Henderson and Flanders thought they were ahead of the game. Guzarwan simply had to make sure the Cascans didn’t fold their hands and leave before the real game got going.
He waited patiently while the well-wishers and pedantic chatterers finished congratulating the new interstellar power, studying Henderson carefully until the last visitors—the two black-uniformed Manticorans, as it happened—said their good-byes and headed to the lift. Then, gesturing Jalla to follow, he headed across the compartment to his unsuspecting prey.
Henderson and Flanders were talking quietly together amidst the muted clinking as the stewards removed the last of the dishes. Both men turned as Guzarwan stepped up to them. “Ambassador Guzarwan,” Flanders greeted him with a nod.
“Yes, though that won’t be for another week or two,” Henderson said. “My crew knows the basics, but we’re not yet up on the specifics of handling a ship this size.”
“I’m sure your people will pick it up quickly,” Guzarwan said. “That was also a very enlightening discussion. Especially given that your analysis closely parallels some of the meditations at the highest levels of the Ueshiban government.”
Henderson glanced at Jalla. Apparently, Ueshiban phraseology was something else he wasn’t up on. “What do you mean?”
“Your mysterious pirates,” Guzarwan explained. “Some of the delegates here tonight were skeptical. I’m sure you saw that as clearly as I did.”
“The evidence perhaps isn’t as clear-cut as one might hope,” Flanders said diplomatically. “But sooner or later, I think, they’ll come around.”
“Perhaps sooner,” Guzarwan said. Glancing at the bustling stewards moving around them, he lowered his voice. “It may be that we have additional data directly supporting Captain Henderson and his conclusion.”
“Really?” Henderson asked, frowning. “What sort of data?”
“I’d rather not say more until I’ve had a chance to review our records,” Guzarwan said. “They’re mostly a set of anomalies in—no,” he interrupted himself firmly. “Balance and preparedness in all things. I cannot and must not speculate until I’m certain.”
“Which will be…?” Henderson prompted.
He could almost taste it, Guzarwan saw: proof that he hadn’t just been swinging wildly into the air and making a fool of himself. Sometimes, it was almost too easy. “My analyst and I should have had sufficient time to study and meditate on the data by tomorrow,” he assured Péridot’s new commander. “In fact, I wonder if you’d be willing to host another such get-together here tomorrow evening?”
“Well—” Henderson looked uncertainly at Flanders. “That may not be convenient. As I said, for the next few days we’ll be in the process of transferring command, and there will be a lot of extra people moving around the ship.”
“Yet you still plan on showing the other delegates around,” Guzarwan reminded him. “I heard you confirm tours for tomorrow with both the Manticorans and Yaltans.”
“That’s not quite the same as a formal dinner,” Henderson said.
“It doesn’t have to be as elaborate as tonight’s assembly,” Guzarwan said. “And if cost is the issue, the Ueshiban delegation will be happy to underwrite the meal.”
Henderson stiffened, just enough to show Guzarwan that he’d hit the mark. “The Cascan government just bought a heavy cruiser,” he said tartly. “I think we can afford to host another meal for the delegates. Do you want everyone who was here tonight to be here tomorrow, as well?”
“Not necessarily,” Guzarwan said. “In fact, not at all. The only ones I really need to speak to right now are the Manticorans and Yaltans. And the two of you, of course.” He paused, as if pondering the problem. He could propose the obvious solution if neither of the other two came up with it, but it would be better if the suggestion came from one of them.
Fortunately, Flanders was able to add two and two. “If Mr. Padua and Captain Eigen are here anyway for the tour, we could just invite them here to Alpha Spin afterward for an informal meeting,” he suggested. “I’ll make sure I’m here, and that way you’ll have all of us.”
“And without risking a public slight of any of the other delegates,” Henderson added. “That works for me. Does it work for you, Mr. Guzarwan?”
“It does indeed,” Guzarwan said. “Excellent. I’ll bring my analyst in for the tour as well, and we’ll be set. Hopefully, by then I’ll have news worth sharing.”
“We’ll look forward to hearing it,” Flanders said, a touch of grimness in his voice. “One question. Does this have any bearing on your concerns about the presence of a Manticoran warship?”
“Again, Commodore, I’d rather not go into details at this point,” Guzarwan said evasively. “Let’s just say that there may be a connection.” He smiled tightly. “I promise that by tomorrow I’ll have something definitive.”
“I hope so,” Flanders said. “The Star Kingdom has been a good friend over the years. I’d hate to see that relationship damaged. Especially for no reason.”
“If there’s damage to be had, I assure you, it will be for good reason,” Guzarwan promised.
“Very well,” Flanders said, still looking troubled. “Until tomorrow oh-nine-hundred, then.”
“Yes,” Guzarwan confirmed softly. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
* * *
Ever since the end of the meeting, Metzger had been looking for a way to ask Eigen the question that had been nagging at her since practically the beginning.
Not that she hadn’t had plenty of time for her ponderings. Indeed, for awhile it had looked like her captain was planning to skip the trip back to Guardian entirely and simply rack aboard Péridot. He spoke to each of the delegates, some of them for several minutes, before they broke off the conversations and headed back to their own shuttles. By the time Eigen finally gestured her to the Alpha Spin lift, she concluded that there really wasn’t any diplomatic phrasing possible for her question.
And so, as their shuttle headed across space toward Guardian’s distant running lights, she simply, point-blank, asked it.
“So how long have we known about the pirates, Sir?”
“I didn’t actually know anything, XO,” Eigen said. “But I’ve heard rumors. Well, actually, even rumor is too strong a word. Let’s just say there’ve been some vague indications that something might be happening out there. They come mainly from between-line readings of Havenite communications, plus the whole ship-sale and regional-meeting thing in the first place. All filtered through minds that like to connect dots whether there are any actual connections there or not.”
“Looks like they got this one right, though.”
“Possibly,” Eigen said. “For what it’s worth, I’m not even sure how much the Havenites knew before tonight. Though now that I think about it, Flanders’s reaction when I first proposed that Guardian take up a crosswise orbital attitude might indicate that he also had his suspicions. Still, best guess is that this whole thing has been driven by Casca right from the beginning.”
“And even they don’t seem to know a whole lot,” Metzger murmured. “I wonder if Jalla knows something.”
“Could be,” Eigen said. “Merchant captains do hear things. Might explain why he talked Guzarwan into bringing him to the meeting tonight.”
“To see what we knew?”
“And hopefully to add in anything he had that we didn’t,” Eigen said. “What concerns me most is that if the Cascans’ information and deductions are right we may have a bigger problem on our hands than just some random pirate gang.”
Metzger eyed him. “Meaning…?”
“Meaning that Kanth Padua was right,” Eigen said. “Three scores in three years may keep a gang going, but it’s hardly enough to make them rich. They may be taking more ships than Casca realizes.” His lip twitched. “Or they may have themselves a sponsor.”
“You mean as in a mercenary group?”
“Professional mercenaries typically don’t bother with small-time freighter attacks,” Eigen said. “I’m thinking more along the lines of a rogue state employing privateers.”
“Oh, that’s a lovely thought,” Metzger said, wincing. “Testing the waters for an attack, you think?”
“I have no idea,” Eigen said. “They could be hoping for conquest, planning to settle some old score, or be running some manifest-destiny craziness. Worse, it could be the remnants or successors to the Free Brotherhood or some similar group.”
“Hence, Péridot and Casca’s p
lans for a neighborhood tour,” Metzger said. “I wonder if they’ll want the RMN to tag along.”
“Oh, I’m sure they will,” Eigen said sourly. “Luckily, that’s not our problem. That’ll be for Lord Angevin to field when he and Diactoros get here.”
“I hope the King at least warned him this might be coming before they left.”
“If not, Angevin’s a diplomat,” Eigen said. “They’re supposed to be trained to land on their feet.”
“I hope so,” Metzger said. “Have you decided who you’re going to take back to Péridot for the full tour tomorrow?”
“Probably just you,” Eigen said. “You heard Henderson—they’re going to be up to their shoulderboards tomorrow with Cascans learning the ropes and Havenites trying to teach them. If Kanth Padua hadn’t wanted a tour too I doubt he’d have let us come aboard at all.” He eyed her curiously. “Why, were you hoping to curl up in your cabin with a good book?”
“I was actually thinking that Massingill might be a better choice,” Metzger said. “Not Colonel Massingill—her husband, the Solarian ship design whiz.”
“Gill Massingill,” Eigen said, making a face. “I have to tell you, XO, I’m really not thrilled at having a civilian aboard my ship, even if he is former Navy. Not sure how the Havenites will take it, either.”
“There are civilian diplomats all over the place,” Metzger reminded him.
“Different pot of scampi,” Eigen said. “The lines of command and authority there are odd but well-defined. In Massingill’s case, he’s technically under my authority, but as a civilian things aren’t so clear.”
“Mm,” Metzger said noncommittally. To her mind, the situation wasn’t nearly so fuzzy. Massingill was aboard a Navy ship, she and Eigen could give him orders, and he would follow them.
“They should have just reinstated him as a PO and been done with it,” Eigen continued. “Too late to worry about that now, I suppose.”
