Command Decision

by Elizabeth Moon

  She called the station. “If you want any of your people back alive,” she said, “and your station whole and functioning, you’re going to agree to resupply that refugee ship at no charge, and you’re going to pay for the damage to my ships.”

  “That’s—you’re threatening human lives! For those—those—obscenities!”

  “So did you threaten human lives,” Ky said. “Ours, if you don’t count theirs, which I do.” After a moment, she went on. “Let me make it very clear. You have broken interstellar law, both commercial and criminal. You have cheated, lied, stolen, and killed. So you can complain all you want, but either you do what I say or I’ll start punching holes in your station, beginning with your command deck. And all your people out here will be dead. Most of them are anyway—”

  “Murderers!”

  “No. You started this. I’m finishing it. You have sixty seconds.”

  In the next hours, as pieces of the station hull spalled off under sporadic hits from Ky’s beam—and a longer burn finished the destruction of the station’s one line-of-sight weapon—the station population finally came around. By then, they had no way to communicate with their remote platforms. Ky monitored their communications with the refugee ship, whose captain first thanked her, then said he was afraid to bring his ship in. Ky sighed; she could understand that, after what she’d seen and heard. Clearly, overwhelming force hadn’t changed the Gretnans’ opinion of outsiders, and the weakened Polsons would be at risk from anyone stronger than a child with an airbat. She called Argelos. “Can you find room for some really big tanks?”

  “I suppose. Why?”

  “Because I’m a softheaded idiot, just like my family always said,” Ky said. “I can’t just leave that ship out there without enough air, water, and food, and I don’t trust this bunch of wolves not to attack them in dock. I need you to pick up oxygen and replacement cultures for them, water and food, and whatever else they need to make a safe jump somewhere else.”

  “Can you afford it?”

  “Better than living with the memory of not helping them. I’ve been in their situation, almost. But I’m not paying for it—I’m taking it. The Gretnans are learning to be generous—as long as I have their station hostage, that is. I’m not going in, because I’m the one with the beam weapon. Pettygrew hasn’t the cargo capacity, and his ship has the most damage. I’ll have him stand off with his batteries hot, and I’ll have the beam on them. I know where their munitions are stored, and they know I know.”

  “Fine with me,” Argelos said. “I won’t mind a bit dumping their trash and picking up something worthwhile. And if they blow us up—”

  “You’ll have an honor guard,” Ky said. “There won’t be a Gretna Station.” She would regret killing the Crown & Spears manager who had been so helpful and the other indentured captives, but if they attacked Argelos, she would.

  Three days later, Ky’s group met the refugee ship out near the jump point. While she and Pettygrew kept watch, Argelos arranged the transfer of emergency supplies onto the transport. Oxygen, water, fresh cultures for the environmental chambers, additional tanks and equipment, food, bedding, personal items. Argelos’ crew had ransacked dockside stores for everything from antibacterical soap to children’s toys and stuffed it into station shuttles, which they’d put under tow.

  “I can’t thank you enough,” Dryas’ captain said. He looked even more gaunt and haggard; Ky suspected he had cut his own rations as well as those of the crew and refugees. Her own belly griped as she remembered the situation she’d faced back at Sabine. “I don’t know how long we can hold out, but now we have a chance. Where are you headed next? Can we tag along?”

  Ky had not thought of that. Now that her group had plenty of munitions, should they go on to Ciudad or somewhere else?

  “Where did you want to go?” she asked Partsin.

  “Somewhere friendly,” he said. “Polson had trade agreements with the Adelaide Group; that’s only two jumps from here, one into an empty system. I’m pretty sure they’d let us in, at least for resupply. You can’t imagine what it’s like for these people. They’ve lost everything—”

  “I can, actually,” Ky said. She didn’t explain, though he raised an eyebrow. “Let me check with the charts and my captains; I’ll get back to you within the hour.”

  Ky checked the scan of the station again. No communication from them; no sign of more hostile activity. Apparently they were going to behave, though she would not put past them some kind of trickery before her people had left the system. She called a conference with Argelos and Pettygrew.

  “Dryas wants us to escort them somewhere—their captain suggested the Adelaide Group, two jumps away. I know we had planned to go to Ciudad, but this is the kind of mission that could boost our reputation—and they need the help. They can’t pay us—”

  “Tell you the truth,” Pettygrew said, “I was never that eager to get to Ciudad. As you said, all we have to offer them is that one of their own died to save us. It’s not much recommendation when we didn’t even recover the bodies. I’d rather go there when we have something to show them.”

  “I agree; let’s help the refugees,” Argelos said.

  “And your military adviser?”

  Argelos grunted. “I told him times have changed and I don’t give a whatsis if Slotter Key doesn’t approve what I do. We have no communications with them anyway.”

  “Good,” Ky said. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

  “If you’re going to be our supreme commander,” Pettygrew said, “are you always going to ask our opinion?”

  “No,” Ky said. “Just sometimes. When I want it. Now I’ll tell their captain.”

  Captain Partsin was embarrassingly effusive in his thanks. “I don’t know what we would have done. I didn’t think anyone would take advantage of refugees the way they did—”

  “I’m just sorry it happened,” Ky said.

  “Who are you people?” he asked.

  “SDF,” Ky said. “Space Defense Force: a multisystem force to defend against these pirates.” It seemed like the right time to announce their new beginning.

  “I never heard of it,” Partsin said. “When did this start?”

  “Not that long ago,” Ky said. “And it’s still growing. We’re part of Third Fleet.” No need to mention that so far there was no First or Second fleet and that her three ships were the whole of “Third.” “Now. Do you have route information for the Adelaide Group? Is your ship capable of microjumps?”

  “Yes, I have navigation data, but no, we can’t do microjumps.”

  “What’s your best insystem speed?”

  The answer was depressingly low. They would be another five days to the jump point—another five days of high alert, because Ky did not trust the Gretnans at all. On the other hand, that was five days to gather information about what had happened to Polson, everything that Partsin knew.

  “We’re a small colony,” Partsin said at the first briefing with the other captains. “We’re not rich; I don’t know why they attacked us, except maybe we have a six-axis jump nexus.”

  “That would do it,” Argelos said, nodding.

  “They came in,” Partsin said. “Maybe fifteen ships; I’m not sure. Overwhelmed our local protection, occupied the colony, and told everyone to get out within thirty-six hours or expect a bloodbath. We only had two ships docked capable of taking on passengers—it wasn’t nearly enough.” Ky remembered the panic at Sabine; she could imagine how much worse this might be. “They didn’t care,” Partsin went on. “Everything our governor tried to say, begging for more time, they just said Not our problem, get out or die. A lot of people didn’t believe them until they shot a whole classroom full of children.” His face twisted; Ky felt her own stomach knot in horror. She waited until Partsin had caught his breath.

  “What can you tell us about them?” she asked then. “Any details at all might help.”

  “They’re insane,” Partsin said bitterly. “They
look like thugs, most of them, but they act like robots—that kind of discipline. They wear burgundy and black—”

  “Turek,” Pettygrew said. “It’s got to be—”

  “Go on,” Ky said to Partsin.

  “The governor asked who they were, where they were from, who they worked for—they just laughed at him.”

  “Did you get any records of them?”

  “No…well, nothing really good. One of the kids had a toy recorder; the images are blurry, but you can tell the color of the uniforms and so on. I do have a list of ship IDs, but I’m sure the beacons were faked.”

  “Anything might be helpful,” Ky said. “How are your passengers doing?”

  “Better than they were,” Partsin said. “Some of them had medical training, so they set up the protocols for refeeding.”

  Ky, remembering the situation at Sabine, sympathized, but there was nothing more they could do until they reached a friendlier place.

  CHAPTER

  SIX

  Nexus II

  Ilkodremin was one of the major manufacturing cities on Nexus; from the air its roofs glittered blue with solar panels. Rafe took a tram directly to his first call, the manufacturer of commercial ovens he had noted at Flasic’s Bakery Supplies, and entered into a long discussion that became an unsatisfactory negotiation about the availability of their ovens offworld, the possibility of sublicensing the plans, and other details he hoped would bore anyone doing surveillance.

  In the afternoon, it was the manufacturer of a machine that turned out small cylindrical snacks filled with minced spiced fruit, but that, too, led to no contracts being signed, since Rafe specified a filling that was incompatible with their machine.

  The next morning, he was off on another regional transport, headed away from what he thought of as his target area, to the tropical seacoast city of Maresh. A small specialty manufacturer there had, he explained to the apparently bored waiter at dinner, a reputation for innovative small-batch designs.

  The small specialty manufacturer did indeed have such a reputation; the company’s designer was also one of the very few people on the planet outside his own family Rafe felt he could trust. The connection was accessible if anyone looked, but decades old. Lissa had been a student at the same school where he’d been sent.

  He watched her scowl over his list of requirements, wondering if she’d remember the simple code they’d used in school. If not, he’d try something else. Her frown deepened; she shook her head once as if to dislodge a fly. Then she looked at him, straight-on as she always had.

  “Genson Ratanvi. From…Cascadia.”

  “Quite so,” Rafe said. He let his face relax for an instant, Genson’s expression of stuffy disapproval shifting, he hoped, to the crooked smile she’d remember. From her change in expression, just as quickly suppressed, it seemed to work.

  “These specifications…will be difficult,” she said. “Expensive.”

  “I hope not too expensive,” Rafe said, back in Genson’s persona. “It is because of your known expertise and reasonable prices that I came here at all. Maresh is hardly on the beaten track.”

  “It can be quite pleasant,” she said.

  He smiled, Genson’s smile and not his own. “Perhaps you could show me? A dinner, maybe?”

  She stiffened a little. “I don’t usually socialize with clients, Ser Ratanvi. I’m sure Ser Bannat would be glad to show you around—”

  “But I was hoping you—” He cocked his head. “I don’t mean to give offense, you understand. It is the habit of we Cascadians to maintain politeness; there would be no…nothing to object to, in that way. It is just that I would prefer you to Ser Bannat as you are the person who would be involved in the design of any machines, should we come to agreement on price.”

  “I see,” she said. “Perhaps you’ll excuse me a moment…”

  “Of course,” he said. “May I wait here—?” The design studio, with its files of projects. “Or would you prefer I wait in the public area?”

  “I won’t be long,” she said. “You can wait here.”

  Rafe refrained from stripping the data out of any files, since Ratanvi would not have done so, and in a short time Lissa returned.

  “My boss has agreed to let me leave early today, Ser Ratanvi, and he’s given me permission to entertain you on the company account. I’ll just make a reservation at—you do like seafood, don’t you? Spicy?”

  Something fishy, yes, and yes, he was hot where security was concerned. They were agreed on that. “I’m so sorry,” Rafe said. “But something I ate when I landed from the spaceport is still causing me trouble. If it could be something very mild instead?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Our regional cuisine is known for its spice blends, but I can certainly find a place with good, but blander food.”

  And either no scans—or no scans she couldn’t fox.

  “I hope you will pardon the liberty,” he said, “but you have beautiful hair.”

  She touched the red-gold of it and grinned. “Now don’t start, Ser Ratanvi. You promised no offense.”

  “Understood,” Rafe said.

  The sights of Maresh included, as Rafe remembered from his childhood vacations, the long, rocky promontory forming one side of the harbor, where the seabirds nested in summer. Now, in autumn, only a little of the sickening stench remained, but it was enough to keep most people far away. Lissa led him out to the very tip, where the waves sloshed noisily at the rocks, to watch the lights dancing on the waters of the bay.

  “So,” she said, when he finally nodded, having checked everything he could check. “What’s going on?”

  “My family’s disappeared,” he said. “And someone put a trap on the old home number. Have you heard anything about a shake-up in ISC?”

  “Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “Not a shake-up…I don’t pay attention unless it’s something dramatic, you know.”

  “You do know ansibles have been out all over, don’t you?”

  “Have they? Where?”

  She sounded sincere. “You really didn’t know?”

  “No…our customers are mostly local to this system, and the others are nearby. How bad is it?”

  “Generalized failure. Happened almost simultaneously.”

  “Sabotage.” No doubt in her voice at all.

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re still working for the same firm?”

  “I can’t answer that,” Rafe said.

  “I see.” He suspected she saw more than was convenient. She started to speak, stopped herself, and dropped back into the old lingo. “Pretty evening on the water, isn’t it?”

  He, too, had seen the light from the little boat, distinguishable from all the other lights dancing on the water by the vee it left behind.

  “I think perhaps we should go back,” he said. He turned and offered her his arm. “You’ve been a most gracious hostess and guide, my dear, but this damp air can’t be good for either of us.”

  “About the contract,” Lissa began, taking his arm and moving slowly back toward the city.

  “I will call on your employer tomorrow,” he said, as stuffily as possible. “Tonight is not the time. But you may assure him that your services were perfectly satisfactory.”

  The next day, he shook his head at the estimate Lissa’s employer gave him. “I’m sorry…I believe that is beyond our budget, though I will keep this in mind.”

  “You won’t find a better price,” Ser Bannat said. “Not for what you want; it’s quite complicated.”

  “Possibly too complicated,” Rafe said. “I will tell them back home. Apologies for possibly wasting your time.”

  “No problem,” Ser Bannat said. “But if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment.” He left the room.

  Rafe had a last few minutes’ chat with Lissa, and took a chance, asking her if she had kept in contact with anyone he might have known, anyone near Pittville in particular. She had cut herself off from the others in the
school, she said, except for two girls who had also made it through university. “You might not remember them,” she said. “Colleen and Pilar—both two years younger than me.”

  “Just barely,” Rafe said. He had their images stored in his implant; he had more about the old school than anyone suspected, but this was not the time to brag.

  “They made it through university, too,” Lissa said. “Colleen married, then it fell apart, then she married again. She and her second husband live about eighty kilometers from Pittville, but I don’t think they ever go that way—she’s always talking about their summer cottage down on the coast. They have three children; she does pottery. Pilar’s an attorney, specializing in family law. She never married, never had a partner that I know of. She lives in Pittville. Colleen lived with her for a while after that first marriage broke up; she might still know people there.”

  “You have been most kind,” Rafe said. “Thank you for your time and hospitality.” Her employer was coming back down the hall; Rafe smiled and thanked him as well before leaving.

  His next trip took him by train along the coast to Marrn; there he transferred to the line that ran up between rounded green hills to Pittville. On one side, the town looked peaceful and idyllic; on the other, the gaping hole for which the town was named lay raw and red as a wound.

  Pilar Metris had an office in a building full of professionals: attorneys, accountants, land surveyors. Rafe did not intend to confide in her; he hadn’t known any of the younger girls well. The woman who came out to greet him from an inner office looked nothing like the girl’s image in his implant. Dark, elegant, and hard-faced, she looked him up and down as if he were an animal for sale.