Sydney Chambers

by B. T. Jaybush

  “But I am not an idiot,” Sydney continued fiercely. “I am not Vattermann. I have definitely learned a couple of things during my years in the TSM. One of those things is, never go into a battle when the odds are too heavily stacked against you. The other is, take advantage of whatever tools are available around you.”

  Sydney could see a look of hope returning to at least a few of the faces in front of her; she decided that opinion had swung far enough in her favor to spring the ultimate question on the group.

  “So let me ask you — all of you: Are you willing to help me take care of the pirate problem here at 16 Cygni?”

  Apparently she had timed the question well — nearly everyone in the room leaped to their feet, some pumping fists in the air, all of them yelling, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  Sydney found herself grinning at the enthusiasm — even knowing that it was eagerness to throw themselves into what was likely certain death, she’d take it. If there was any chance she could actually beat the likes of Vattermann it would only be with the help of these brave men and women. And though she ached at the thought of how many of them might die in the coming battle, she threw them the carrot of humor, of self-deprecation, making herself one of them for as long as the moment could last.

  “Gee, thanks,” she said, using the amplification once more to be heard over the ruckus in front of her. “And here I was hoping you’d all let me off the hook.”

  Her wry comment got the laugh that she’d hoped for, leavening the sentiment in the room and priming everyone for the dirty business that was to come. Sydney waved everyone to their seats, and when there was some order in the room once more, began the process of selling her battle plan to her newly aligned troops.

  “So,” she asked of all those present, “are one or two of you kind of in charge of this rowdy bunch?”

  Sydney wasn’t surprised when Ted Graham in the very front row spoke up, but what he said did startle her a bit. “Joe, Henry and Chris do most of the organizing,” Graham told her, his words making it clear he thought it was something she should already have guessed. “Ain’t no one really ‘in charge.’ We just all do what needs to be done.”

  “Of course,” Sydney agreed. “That’s the way it should be. But still, this is going to be a lot easier if I explain it to just a few of you and let them spread the word the way you’re used to it happening. So, Joe, Chris, Henry — can you join me for a while after everyone else leaves? We can go somewhere more private and talk some tactics.”

  When the three she had addressed all nodded, Sydney turned and waved Rudolph over to her once more. “Walter, is there a smaller room we can use for a more private talk? And....” She paused for a moment to consider. “Maybe you ought to ask your head of Station Security to join us there as well.”

  “Sure, to both,” Rudolph assured her. He then waved Frye over and whispered in her ear for a moment; she took off, heading out of the conference room at a trot. Sydney watched her go, then turned back to Rudolph.

  “Probably should have some refreshments —”

  “Cami’ll take care of all of that,” the Station Manager interrupted her. “You’ll be set up just down the hall from here. I’ll show you the way.”

  At that point Joe, Chris and Henry had reached the front, and the four of them followed Rudolph out of the room.

  3

  An hour later the three militia leaders and Station Security chief Anthony Beckworth were busily chewing over Sydney’s preliminary suggestions when Cami Frye entered the small conference room they had commandeered. Sydney broke away to walk over to the young officer as she placed a tray of pastries on the table where the others now sat.

  “Lieutenant, may I have a private word,” Sydney said in a low tone, then nodded toward the room’s doorway. Frye nodded and led the captain out into the hallway.

  “Yes, Ma’am?”

  “Lieutenant,” Sydney began, then looked closely at the younger woman. “You are aware that Station Security has control of the TSM contact links on this station?”

  Cami’s face acquired a puzzled frown. “Yes, Ma’am,” she said. “They’re under our control — that is to say, Security is the agency that sends out any requests. But those requests usually come from Manager Rudolph.”

  Sydney nodded. “I understand that. But do you understand that when Rudolph initiates the request they must go out with his codes, or with Outpost Station codes?”

  Frye thought for a moment. “Ah ... yes, Ma’am, I guess that’s true.”

  “And do you understand that when TSM gets a request with Station codes it is required to route that request through diplomatic channels, without even looking at it?”

  Cami shrugged. “I guess so, Ma’am. I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “I imagine not,” Sydney told her. “But think about this: In the coming battle, I will need to get a request to TSM. With my codes. If that message were to be sent from the Morrigan, it could be intercepted and read by the very pirates we’ll be fighting.”

  “Ah....” Cami frowned. “Yes, Ma’am, I guess I can understand how that could happen. But....”

  “But, what, lieutenant?”

  “But ... are you saying you need to send through Station equipment? I mean, how would you do that when you’re on your ship?”

  Sydney looked sternly at the young officer. “Obviously, I would need to have an agent on Outpost Station who could send it for me.”

  Understanding began to dawn on Frye’s face.

  “Would you be willing to be that agent, lieutenant? To send out one, brief, coded message through Station equipment when I notify you that it is time to do so?”

  Frye’s face took on a glow of pride, almost of worship, at the thought of doing something for the woman who had become her hero. “Yes, Ma’am!”

  “Good.” Sydney pulled her personal computer out of a pocket. “Do you have a personal comp, lieutenant?”

  Cami nodded and pulled it from one of her uniform’s pockets — an older model, but still up to what the captain needed. “Excellent,” Sydney said, then bumped her comp against Frye’s. “I just transferred the message to you, lieutenant. Double-check that you got it, please.”

  Cami did so. “It’s here,” she told the captain.

  Sydney nodded. “Once I’ve left the Station I need you to be extremely vigilant, lieutenant. I will send a pulse to your comm with the transmission details when it is time to transmit. When you get that pulse I expect you to transmit the message as soon as you can — within ten minutes, if possible. Understood?”

  Frye nodded, eager as only the young can be.

  “Thank you.” Sydney gave the young woman a slight smile of assurance. “Don’t worry about compromising your oath to Station Security, lieutenant. I’ve notified both your commander and the Station Manager that such a transmission will be needed and they have approved the event. The only thing I was not able to tell them was who would be acting on my behalf.” She allowed her smile to grow — couldn’t have stopped it from growing, come to that. “Now I can name you as my agent.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Frye gushed, almost trembling with excitement.

  Sydney regarded the young woman for a moment. “Something tells me you have a bright future ahead of you, Lieutenant Frye,” she said and offered a salute to the startled junior, who returned the salute out of reflex. When both of them had lowered their arms, Sydney added, “Dismissed for now.”

  She watched after the young lieutenant for a moment before pushing her way back into the tactical conference. A bright future, indeed, she told herself, as long as we can keep this station out of pirate hands.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  1

  “What do you mean you’re here at C?”

  Chloe O’Shaugnassey stared at the image of her Uncle Patrick gazing at her from Brigid Delaney’s main control screen. She had launched from the docking bay of Cahan Morrigan only minutes before, after spending five full days in the belly of the military beast
. Her ship had been honed to the finest condition it had seen in years, and she had formed a fast friendship with engineer Hailey Kristoff. Chloe hadn’t thought she’d ever find someone more intuitive about ship mechanics than her own beloved Krista ... but Kristoff had proven her wrong, as well as being simply one of the nicest people she’d ever met. Indeed, not even one person on Morrigan had treated her with anything less than respect and courtesy, turning her long-held opinion of TSM on its head and making her begin to wonder if the presence of TSM and the Confederacy — or at least, of Morrigan in particular — might not be a good thing for 16 Cygni, after all.

  Chloe’s departure had come only minutes after the TSM ship had itself undocked from Outpost Station. The Morrigan was preparing to intercept a fleet of pirate ships that every monitor in the system had taken loud notice of when they emerged from hyperspace in near-military precision early in the Station’s morning. Chloe had headed her own Brigid Delaney off at a tangent from that of the military vessel, moving slowly as her merchant-grade sensors labored to identify the pirate ships, hoping against hope that all of them represented Vattermann’s cursed group and not her own band of Cyg-B brigands.

  Then her comm had registered an incoming call ... and her world had begun to unravel.

  “You know better than to come to C, Uncle Patrick!” Chloe felt short of breath as she tried desperately to keep from yelling at her only living relative, feeling her chest constrict in fear at the meaning of Patrick’s presence among the pirate fleet. Her uncle gave her only a tired smile in response, once the comm signal had made its light-delayed round trip between the two vessels.

  “I’m not here by myself, luv,” he said in an obvious attempt at reassurance. “All of our big ships are here, Chloe, and so are Vattermann’s. We’ve come to a meetin’ of the minds, as it were. ’Tis time to show the Confederacy that we’re not to be pushed around.”

  Chloe stared at the screen, a shiver running through her at Patrick’s words. “You mean to be takin’ on a TSM warship, Uncle Patrick,” she whispered at last, as much to tell herself that was what her uncle meant as to question Patrick on his sanity. Then the reality struck her and adrenalin flooded her system, and she nearly shouted at the screen. “A TSM warship, Uncle! You can’t be doin’ that! I don’t care how many of our ships you brought. Not to mention, what in the name of all the saints are you doin’ in league with that scum, Vattermann?”

  Patrick heaved a voluminous sigh. “Chloe, this fight’s been a-buildin’ for much longer than the TSM ship’s been here,” he told her, speaking slowly, as though Chloe were still the child he’d rescued so many years before. “The warship’s just the last straw, so to speak. The Confederacy has little use for us at Cygni and even less love. Sendin’ the warship was just their way of clampin’ down on us.” His features took on a look of pleading. “We can’t be lettin’ that happen, Chloe, you know that as much as do I.”

  “But Uncle Patrick,” Chloe pleaded right back, “that’s not what Sydney’s about.”

  Her uncle’s eyebrows rose at her show of familiarity with the TSM captain. “‘Sydney,’ is it now?”

  “Aye, Uncle Patrick, Sydney. Captain Chambers, if you must. I’ve spent the last few days with her and her people whilst they fixed my ship ... really fixed her, Uncle, not just the band aids that we’ve always had to do. I’ve spent time with them, talked with them — and they’re good people, Uncle! All they want is t’keep the peace!”

  Patrick sadly shook his head. “‘Peace’ means the same thing as suppression to the Confederacy,” he said in gentle tones.

  “But that’s not true of Sydney!” Chloe felt a tear sting at her eye and paused to wipe it away in irritation. “Uncle, Captain Chambers even understands about Aerieland,” she told him, now desperate to make him understand what she had come to know while aboard the Morrigan. “I began to tell her about the plight of the folk there, and she already knew. She investigated. She sent a whole crew of her folk down and they reported just how bad things are. She promise me — she promised, Uncle Patrick! — that fixin’ the problems on Aerieland is one of her top priorities!”

  Now Patrick frowned. “You can’t seriously be believin’ that, Chloe,” he said, but his voice carried far less of a tone of certainty than was usual.

  Chloe felt a lump grow in her throat and her lower lip trembled as she stared back at her uncle’s image. “Can we afford to not at least be givin’ her a chance?” She was now speaking softly but urgently. “No one else ever even looked at Aerieland before — and here she did it on her own, not because she was asked to or told to. No one’s ever promised to help before. Certainly Vattermann won’t.”

  Patrick was silent a long moment. When he spoke his voice had hardened. “They never promise as they never intend to do it.” His tone caused Chloe’s eyes to focus closely on the screen in front of her; as she did she found Patrick’s eyes reflecting the bleakness of despair, though, rather than the iron of anger.

  “The Confederacy doesn’t care about Aerieland, any more than they care about 16 Cygni as a whole,” Patrick continued after a breath. “The only thing the Confederacy cares about is Outpost Station and keepin’ goods flowin’ to the inner worlds. They care how much and how fast we can ship ’em the stuff that makes ’em rich.”

  Chloe shook her head, despairing of making her Uncle understand. “Captain Chambers is different, Uncle,” she finally said, the words fighting their way past a catch in her throat. “I didn’t believe that before I met her, either, but now I do. She cares. She cares about us. I knew it almost from the moment I laid eyes on her.” She continued to stare at her uncle’s image and was relieved to see his features slowly soften.

  “Chloe luv,” Patrick said in a gentle tone, “even if that’s true, your captain’s only one person. One person can’t change the whole Confederacy.”

  “She doesn’t have to change the Confederacy, Uncle Patrick,” Chloe told him, hope now starting to tickle at her senses. “She has but to report that she has things under control.”

  Patrick, shook his head as if in despair and sighed deeply. “Ah, Chloe me luv….”

  “Uncle, please,” Chloe said, pushing ahead with her argument without waiting for Patrick’s light-delayed response. “Please. Give the captain a chance. I swear by my sainted mother that she’ll be doin’ right by us.”

  Patrick stared out through the viewscreen as though trying to look directly into his niece’s heart. Finally he sighed once more and shook his head sadly. “Chloe, I’m committed to be doin’ this right now. But I’ll make you a promise, luv.” He tried to grin; the result appeared to Chloe to be somewhere between a grimace and a tired smile. “On the soul of not only your sainted mother but also on the soul of your father, my own brother. I promise to think on what you’re tellin’ me. I promise to consider the impossible notion that maybe a TSM captain can be tellin’ the truth.”

  Chloe felt the lump in her throat ease and the knot in her heart begin to melt. “Thank you, Uncle,” she whispered, not even bothering to wipe at the tears that began to blur her vision.

  “You don’t need to thank me, luv,” Patrick replied, the ghost of a real smile on his lips for the first time that day, “but you do need to be getting’ yourself out of the line of fire. As far from Outpost Station as you can go.”

  “I’ll be gettin’ out of the way, Uncle,” Chloe replied tartly, “but I’ll be stickin’ close all the same. I’ll not be lettin’ the likes of you die in a fight with no family there to see.”

  Patrick’s only reply was a wistful smile and a nod before he cut the connection.

  2

  Sydney Chambers glanced up in response to a soft knock on her door.

  “Well, XO?”

  Garvey took a small step forward into his commander’s office. “Ms. O’Shaugnassey is away,” he reported. “Launched without a hitch, and with a huge grin on Lieutenant Kristoff’s face. Apparently she was near to a professional orgasm over working on that old slo
op. Oh, and Ms. O’Shaugnassey fell all over herself to say, ‘thank you’ to you and Kristoff and everyone on Morrigan. Over and over again.” He gave the captain a crooked smile. “I do believe that she and Ms. Kristoff really hit it off.”

  “Nice to know we could provide our chief engineer with such a boost to her professional ... ah, sex life.” Sydney grinned at her exec. “And considering the amount of information we gained from her, I hope you let Ms. O’Shaugnassey know that she was more than welcome.”

  “Of course.” Garvey allowed a bit of his captain’s grin to reflect on his own face. “The fact is, if her uncle’s anything like her he may just be the ‘Robin Hood’ of 16 Cygni.”

  “Right.” Sydney sat back in her chair and subtly stretched several muscles stiff from an extended desk session. “I have to admit that even I was impressed by that young woman, XO. If she’s a good example, there just might be some truly decent people here at Cygni. Maybe, just maybe, Vattermann is the exception rather than the rule.”

  “One can hope, Ma’am.”

  “Indeed. Come in and close the door behind you, if you will.” Sydney waved Garvey to take a seat; when he had done so she asked, “Did you get a chance to study the plan of battle I managed to get the militia to sign on to?”

  “I did.” The executive officer frowned. “Can’t say as I’m too sanguine about every detail of the strategy, though. Captain, it seems to me there are an awful lot of options in there that will do nothing more than get all of them killed. Not to mention us.”

  The captain grimaced. “We might have come up with better if we hadn’t run out of time. When the pirate forces showed up massed against us this morning, though, it was the best we could all agree on. I don’t suppose you have any specific alternatives to suggest?”