Against the Odds

by Elizabeth Moon

  "You're right, Admiral," Esmay said. "I don't understand what you're doing, and I am concerned that you are out here alone, on the border—"

  "You're not the only one who can have secret orders, Suiza. I'm not here because I decided to go for a joyride. If we end up in a full-scale war because of you—"

  "Not because of me, Admiral," Esmay said. She dared not glance aside to see if her scan officer had identified the incoming ship. If she could just keep Livadhi engaged, keep him busy, so he didn't jump Vigilance out . . .

  "Back off, Suiza. That's an order. Back off, go home, and if I were you I'd keep my mouth shut—" With every word he spoke, she became more convinced that he was, in fact, a traitor.

  "No, sir." Esmay took a deep breath. "I don't entirely trust you, sir."

  "You flaming idiot! Are you trying to get yourself and your crew killed? You do realize Vigilance could blow you apart like tissue paper, don't you?" Out of the corner of her eye she could see a sort of ripple of dismay go through her bridge crew. But she herself felt steadier, now that he'd openly threatened her.

  "Sir, I've been yelled at by admirals senior to you—with all due respect, sir, yelling at me isn't going to work. Tell me what you're doing, and why, or I will sit right here watching you until I figure it out for myself."

  "No, you won't, because I will run right over you and jump out of here. Dammit, Suiza, haven't you caused enough trouble in this organization? Back off or else do exactly what I tell you." He took a deep breath. "You want to know what I'm doing? I'm under orders to make an illicit jump into Benignity space to pick up a very important defector. I've been told it's of utmost importance. Now that you've stuck your nose in, you can guard my back."

  * * *

  R.S.S. Indefatigable, in Copper Mountain system

  * * *

  Heris Serrano was asleep in her cabin when the comm officer buzzed her. "Captain—there's an urgent message, ansible relayed, from a Captain Suiza."

  "In code?"

  "Yes, sir, in code."

  Heris frowned as she shoved her feet into her boots and headed to the bridge and the decryption desk. Esmay Suiza was back in Fleet and a captain? That was good, but now what had happened?

  She sat at the desk, inserted her command wand, entered the authorization numbers, and watched the message wriggle into clear. URGENT URGENT URGENT . . . All right, she'd got that. PETRIS KENVINNARD ABOARD VIGILANCE REPORTS SUSPICIOUS ACTIVITY BY ADMIRAL MINOR LIVADHI. REQUESTS RASCAL RELAY MESSAGES TO YOU AND SHADOW VIGILANCE. WILL REPORT VIA ANSIBLE.

  "Captain, there's another from the same source, by a different relay . . . I was just downloading all messages for this ship . . ."

  "See how many there are," Heris said. "Forward them all to this desk. We have a situation."

  The next message gave a set of navigation coordinates. VIGILANCE TAKING THIS COURSE. WILL FOLLOW AND REPORT.

  The third, fourth, and fifth were the same. Heris could almost see the big cruiser trailed by the little patrol, through one jump point after another, zigzagging through Familias Space. What was Livadhi up to? And why didn't he realize Suiza was back there reporting on him?

  Petris must have convinced Koutsoudas, she realized.

  "Navigation," she called. "I'm going to read off some jump point coordinates—throw me up a visual, and let's see if we can figure out where someone's going." She read the coordinates aloud—she didn't want the bridge crew to know the rest of this yet—and while Nav set up the visual, she wrote out her own quick report to Sector HQ. Whatever Livadhi was up to, she was sure he was not acting under orders.

  "Captain, an urgent from HQ was down the queue—"

  "Send it." She watched as that message came up clear. ALL SHIPS, ALL SHIPS, REPORT ANY CONTACT WITH CRUISER VIGILANCE OR PATROL RASCAL. THESE SHIPS FAILED TO REPORT ON SCHEDULE. PRESUMED LOCATION 389.24.005. ANY SHIP JUMPING THROUGH THAT POINT, REPORT DEBRIS FIELDS OR OTHER EVIDENCE OF CONFLICT.

  Right. Someone had noticed they weren't where they were supposed to be. She encrypted her report, told the comm officer to tightbeam it to the system ansible, and looked up to see the Nav officer's visual up on the main screen.

  It looked like a random walk example in a math text. But something about it nagged at her mind.

  "What kind of jump points?" she asked.

  "All multiples. Nothing under a three. But mostly low-density systems."

  Not random at all then, but an attempt to throw off pursuers.

  And, except for two jumps early in the sequence, they trended toward the border with the Benignity.

  "Damn the man!" Heris said. Heads turned. "Sorry," she said. "We have a situation, a Fleet cruiser possibly trying to abscond to the Benignity. I have just sent a message to Sector HQ, but by the time someone there figures out what to do, it'll be far too late."

  "You're going after him?"

  "We're going after him. Alone, because we can't strip this system of the other ships. We have evidence that the crew—or some of the crew—may be aware that something's wrong, but they don't know what. In the context of a real mutiny, they're unlikely to start trouble—" Though she could hope Meharry or Oblo would manage to knock Livadhi on the head anyway.

  "But—" the navigation officer looked worried. "But, sir, how can we know where to find them? They could be anywhere. And we can't cross the border—that'd start a war."

  "There's a tail on them," Heris said. "A very smart junior officer took the initiative and is reporting at every jump point. When we know what point next to the border they're at—"

  "But they'll see the tail," someone said. "They have to, they've got scan—"

  "Yes, but they've got scan technicians who are loyal. They're covering the tail. What we need to do is get closer to the points they're likely to pick."

  "Do you know whose ship it is?" asked the Exec.

  Heris nodded. "It's mine—or it was. Admiral Minor Livadhi's on it now. It's my crew who figured out how to get word out."

  There was a long moment of silence as they digested this.

  "But thanks to the mutiny, and the resulting scrambling of crew, a good part of the crew wasn't on the ship before, and probably hasn't a clue."

  "How are you—we—going to stop them if we find them?"

  "I'll figure that out when we find them," Heris said. The obvious solution was one she didn't want to contemplate. "First we have to find them."

  "Should I put a message to Rascal onto the general ansible relay, sir? Do you think they can pick up messages, or are they lying too low?"

  "Lying low, I would think, and I don't want to alert Livadhi by sending messages to the shadow we hope he doesn't know he has."

  "Right. It must be tough on Captain Suiza."

  "Not any tougher than things have been before," Heris said. But she could easily imagine the younger officer's tension . . . she was disobeying orders, she was sneaking along behind a ship that could destroy her if it noticed her . . . she was way out on the end of a very fragile string. Still, Suiza had a habit of making good decisions in emergencies. Keep going, she thought at her. Keep on his tail until I get there.

  * * *

  She did not follow the earlier part of Vigilance's twisting course; she headed straight to the point indicated in the most recent of Suiza's messages. By cranking Indefatigable to the limit, she was able to ice through the intervening jump points, and hoped that she would be no more than one jump behind, when she came out and got Suiza's outgoing messsage. Her ship still had that annoying vibrato in its FTL drive, one that would leave its signature scrawled across any system it came to. But that had its uses too—though Koutsoudas wouldn't know it as her ship, he wouldn't miss that it was some ship.

  Indefatigable wallowed out of FTL with a last gut-wrenching shimmy, and Heris wished very much she had Koutsoudas here to sort out the wavering bars of probability on the scan. If there was anything in this system, it was likely Livadhi and his tail.

  * * *

  Koutsoudas, wa
tching the downjump transition, barely restrained a triumphant whistle. The others had told him, but he had not quite believed that any of this would work, that Heris Serrano could find them before Livadhi took them over the border into certain captivity and probable death. But the ship's beacon broadcast her identity loud and clear: the R.S.S. Indefatigable. Shields up, he was glad to see. Weapons hot—well, they were all running with weapons hot these days. They'd come out of jump a mere ten light-minutes away; the scan clutter cleared quickly. He pressed the button that signalled the others that Heris had arrived.

  "Sir," he said to Livadhi. "That's a Fleet ship, a cruiser, Indefatigable. She's running like we are, shields up."

  "Damn!" Livadhi came up behind him. "How close?"

  "Ten light-minutes, sir, on insertion. It was a messy downjump; I'm sure there's something wrong with the FTL drive."

  "How long before her scan clears?"

  "Well, considering that flutter in the drive, there may be flux refraction for longer than usual. I'd say minimum of three minutes, maybe four, not more than five."

  "Can we jump out before she's clear?"

  "Not with the course combination, sir."

  "Mmm. Why do you think that ship's in this system?"

  "Unstable FTL drive," said one of the engineering officers down the row. `Steban, if you'll `port those scans over, I can check them, but I'd say that much flutter could yank even a cruiser out of FTL space."

  "I'd like to believe that," Livadhi said slowly. "But—tell me, Koutsoudas, do you know who's commanding that ship?"

  "I can look it up," Koutsoudas said.

  Someone else answered. "Commander Serrano, isn't it? It was Wiston's ship, but she was closer when the mutiny started—"

  "I cannot believe," Livadhi said, "that Commander Serrano would permit her ship to have such a badly tuned FTL drive."

  "Could have been damaged in combat," the same voice offered.

  "I don't think so," Livadhi said, and something in his voice made the hairs on Koutsoudas' arms stand up. "I think Commander Serrano came here for the same reason we did. As to how she knew—" His gaze swept the bridge. No one said anything. "I'll be in my office," he said. "I expect a message shortly: pipe it there."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  R.S.S. Rascal

  Esmay Suiza had another of those swooping moments of doubt that had afflicted her off and on with Commodore Livadhi. Could he really be under secret orders, or was his claim as false as hers? Ships did sometimes cross the border on secret errands, both ways. The Benignity did have defectors; she'd met one. And Livadhi's anger seemed so genuine, so straightforward: no tinge of guilt, just the natural annoyance of a commander whose subordinate has screwed up yet again.

  Against that, she had only the tightbeam message from Oblo, and her own gut feeling that something was wrong, something false, about Livadhi that had not been wrong before. She was out on a very long, slender limb, far away from anyone who could advise her or help, and the ship coming in might be the enemy.

  Her scan officer spoke up. "It's a Fleet ship—a cruiser by the mass—there's the beacon data. Indefatigable, Captain."

  Esmay felt a rush of relief. Heris Serrano was here; now everything would be all right. She had no idea how Heris would convince Commodore Livadhi not to bolt, if he was planning to bolt, but she was sure the worst was over.

  "Lieutenant," Livadhi said, "I'm ordering you to cover our jump. Don't let that traitor follow us—"

  "Traitor, sir? My scan tells me that's Indefatigable, and Heris Serrano . . ."

  "Lieutenant, there's no time—I have to go now, before she compromises my mission—and you might want to consider how she knew to come here. . . ."

  Because I told her stuck in Esmay's throat.

  "Vigilance is lit," her weapons officer said. "She's targeting us and Indy."

  Rascal's screens wouldn't take a direct hit from Vigilance, not this close. She could microjump to a safe distance, but then Livadhi could jump out before Serrano was close enough.

  * * *

  Petris, off watch, had just told himself for the fortieth time that he must get some sleep when his com buzzed with the three-one-three signal that meant Koutsoudas had detected Heris's ship. He rolled out of his bunk, and buzzed Oblo and Meharry with the same signal. His clothes, his boots, a dash to the head. His face in the mirror looked strange, a mask of intense concentration. He buzzed Slater and Cornelian. His stomach churned; he gulped a swallow of water, and headed for Drives.

  "She's here?" Chief Potter asked.

  "Yes. Start getting 'em ready. I don't think he'll be wandering the ship, but try to keep them out of the main corridors."

  Down to Troop Deck. Chief Sikes met him at the foot of the ladder. "She made it?"

  "Yes. I don't know more than that, but get `em ready." Troop Deck, he knew, was going to be the hardest to organize. More people, and more of them not in on the secret. If Livadhi did the right thing, and surrendered, they'd be all right, but chances were the fellow wouldn't. He'd try to bargain; he'd try to blackmail Heris with her crew.

  And it wouldn't work. He knew the depths of her heart as well as his own: she would not let anyone deliver her ship and her crew—especially her crew—into enemy hands.

  She would kill them herself first. They were safe from dishonor, with Heris Serrano after them, but death was a distinct possibility.

  A lot depended on where she would aim, and from what distance. Being Heris, she would try to save what lives she could, but Livadhi must not be one of them. And the captain's quarters and offices, like the bridge itself, were deep in the cruiser's body. Heris would have to strike hard in the center, to disable Vigilance, or risk losing her and possibly her own ship when Livadhi ordered an attack.

  Petris had conferred with the most combat-experienced personnel he dared trust, and they had devised a plan which might—just might—save most of the crew not directly impacted by a weapon. Unfortunately, it required the collusion of at least a hundred of the crew: Vigilance's full array of shuttles (six troop carriers, the admiral's shuttle, the captain's shuttle, the supply shuttle) could hold 541, if they stuffed people in standing up, and hold six hours of life support for that many. But launching shuttles without the captain's knowledge was—and was intended to be—well-nigh impossible.

  How long did they have?

  Down to Engineering. What was Livadhi thinking? What would he try first? What was Heris thinking? Would she strike first for the heart of the ship, or for the drives? How long would they talk, up there, before something happened?

  * * *

  On the bridge of Vigilance, the junior weapons tech had targeted Rascal, as ordered. His finger hovered over the launch buttons.

  Arkady Ginese glanced at the weapons officer, who looked distinctly unhappy. "Don't do that," he said to his junior. "It's too close. We need to change the options if she stays that close." Then to the officer he said, "We have the solution, sir, but it'll require changing out the fusing options. Permission to contact launch crew?"

  "Granted," the officer said. His glance shifted, toward the bridge entrance. "If—I mean, that will take several minutes, won't it?"

  "Yes, sir, it will." Arkady had already signalled Meharry, a series of clicks that told her which launch crew to descend on. Now he spoke into his headset. "Launch four, our target is within delay radius, R.S.S. Rascal; change out the timing and fusing options for a close-in target—"

  Back in his ear came the startled voice of the sergeant in charge of that crew. "What? We're firing on a Fleet ship? That's no mutineer; Rascal's part of our escort—I'm not gonna—"

  Meharry's voice then, cutting in. "Arkady. What's going on?"

  "Livadhi's told us to target Suiza and Serrano. Pass the word."

  "What about the bridge officers?"

  "So far they're sticking with him—but it's iffy."

  "Idiots." Meharry added the epithet she most preferred for stupid officers, and clicked off.

&
nbsp; Arkady glanced again at his officer, then at the bridge officer, who looked equally uncomfortable. His lips moved—he must be talking to Livadhi; the man's face seemed to settle into a mask of sadness. Then he turned and looked at Arkady. "Ginese—Commodore wants to see you in his office. You too, Vissisuan, Koutsoudas. And pipe a call for Meharry, Kenvinnard, Guar . . ." The list included all of Heris Serrano's old crew. Arkady felt cold. Whatever Livadhi was up to, it could not be good. "He wants to ask you some questions about your former commander; he's concerned about her motives . . ."

  Not good at all. Arkady got up slowly, under the eye of his supervisor, and dared not look at Oblo or Koutsoudas. Surely Meharry and Petris and the others would have more sense than to come. Surely they would do something.

  * * *

  Issi Guar looked at Meharry as his name echoed over the speakers. "Does that sound like good news to you?"

  "No. Don't you go. I will. If the bastard's looking for hostages, he doesn't need all of us. Keep working on the plan. Get 'em into the shuttles as soon as you can . . . ."

  She headed up the ladders, tapping her tagger so Petris could find her. They met a deck below Command. "He's figured it out," Petris said.

  "`Fraid so. Or something. I told Issi not to come. D'you think we can take him?"

  "Not if he's got ship's security in there with him, and I imagine he would. Or his own weapons, for that matter." Petris took a breath. "Methlin—go back down and get on one of those shuttles."

  She snorted. "I'm not going to be the one to tell our captain that you're dead. And my baby brother will think I'm a wuss."

  "I doubt that. And I'm not willing to tell your baby brother that I ran out and let you die."

  "This is ridiculous. While we hang around here, he's getting Oblo and Arkady and `Steban . . ."

  "So let's not waste time." She started up the last ladder; Petris grabbed her by the shoulder, and narrowly ducked the blow she aimed at him.

  "I can order you," Petris said. Meharry whirled.