Engaging the Enemy (43 page)

She had said something wrong; she tried to think why. “Captain Zavala,
I
was thinking only of safety. You did say, didn't you, that it made us more vulnerable to attack, all bunched up like that?”

“It is stupid,” Zavala said. “But she called me a coward, an old lady—”

“That was rude,” Ky said.

“It was worse than rude,” Zavala said. “It is a mortal insult, and I must answer it with honor.”

Again Ky could not quite understand; she was afraid that any question would make Zavala angrier. “When you say
answer it with honor…,
” she said.

“I mean a duel, of course. A duel of honor. Do you not have such?”

“Not on Slotter Key,” Ky said. “A duel of honor is a trial of some sort? A test?” Running, she thought, or climbing, or even a fistfight, primitive as that sounded.

His eyes widened. “A duel of honor is fought with the blade and the heart, until they are one.” He thrust his right forefinger into his chest. Then he shook his head, speaking very distinctly as if to a small child. “It is a fight with the sword, Captain Vatta, that ends in the death of one, either challenger or defender.”

“You're going to challenge Petrea Andreson to a duel?” Despite herself, that ended in a near-squeak. She bit back
That's absurd,
which gave her time to think of all the ways this was a very bad precedent to set.

“I must,” Zavala said. “And I would like you to be my second. She will have a male second, of course, and then we men will fight because no woman can duel.”

A prickle of irritation. “Why not?”

“Dueling is between men. Women fighting is just—” His hand waved dismissively. “There is no honor in it. No insult to you, Captain Vatta, for your defense of your ship, which we have heard about. That is different. For a woman to fight in defense of her family or home—or their extension in planet or system—is normal. But the duel of honor belongs to the realm of men.”

“And you expect us to stand by and watch you fight?”

“It is how it is done,” he said, with the dignity of someone who knows all the rules and intends to follow them.

“What if Captain Andreson refuses your challenge?”

“If her second will not fight me, then I leave. I will not stay here to see my honor dragged in the dirt.” He paused, then went on. “You do not have duels or affairs of honor on Slotter Key?”

“We don't have duels,” Ky said. “We do have honor.”

“How can you have honor if there is no blood price?” Zavala asked.

A vision from the implant of her home in flames, her dead mother's face, blocked out the screen for a moment. “There is a blood price,” she said, her voice thick.

“You killed your kinsman Osman, I was told,” he said. “For killing your parents, is that not so?”

“It was not a duel,” Ky said. “It was vengeance.” Very satisfying vengeance, though she knew she shouldn't feel that way.

“I think we are not that different,” Zavala said. “So will you be my second? You are the only one I can ask.”

Ky hesitated. “What would my responsibilities be?”

“You don't—oh. Of course. After I challenge her, you and her second will make the arrangements for the duel. It is different because in my civilization we do not challenge women, but you will explain it. I will meet her second in an honorable duel. As we are shipboard, the weapons choices available will naturally be limited to those that will cause no harm to the ships. That is why I said sword.” His voice was completely calm now, as he pointed out the practical aspects of dueling to the death on shipboard, and told her that Andreson, as challenged, would have the choice of weapons: one of three styles of sword. “And I have a handbook that you can read, for the correct wording at the time…”

This was surreal. This made no sense. They had real enemies in the universe, and he was about to kill someone, or be killed, just because he felt he'd been insulted? Perhaps she could persuade him. “Captain Zavala, while I agree that what she said was wrong, and an insult, still…this is a perilous situation we're all in. Turek and his pirates are out there trying to capture more systems and dominate everyone…isn't that more important?”

His face hardened. “Nothing is more important than honor. Without honor, how can I fight Turek? I must have the confidence of my crew. How can my men respect me if I accept insult without defending myself?” Then he gave her a tight smile. “But, Captain Vatta, it is the duty of one's chosen second to test one's resolve, as you have just done. As I said, you are more like me than I would have thought possible.”

“I see.” She didn't see, not completely, but she did recognize intransigence. He was going to duel or he was going to leave. At least arranging the duel would take some time and maybe he would cool off, or maybe Andreson would apologize. Neither was likely, but that was all the hope she could find. “Then I accept—I agree to be your second in this matter, though I wish it could be deferred.”

“You should have been the commander,” Zavala said. “You would not have let this happen.”

That was true in one way, but she suspected that Zavala's cultural heritage provided him with unseen trigger points that would give any female commander problems.

“You do understand,” he went on, “that if she refuses my challenge, I will be forced to withdraw from this alliance.”

“Yes,” Ky said.

“I recommend that you also withdraw, not because you are my second, but because that woman will get us all killed, if she goes on like this, and then where is your idea?”

“It's because it's my idea that I can't withdraw,” Ky said. Though Andreson might very well send her away just for cooperating with Zavala. “I must share the risk.”

“As you wish. I will send my challenge to Andreson before the meal break is over.”

Ky had no appetite after that, but forced herself to eat something. She would need it if this went as badly as she feared.

She did not expect what Zavala did next: he hailed all the ships, bringing everyone online to hear his challenge. She had assumed he'd make the challenge in private, and she would have a chance to ask Andreson to apologize. Instead, in formal phrases, stilted in their translation from his native language, he called upon Andreson to give him satisfaction of “mortal blood on the field of honor.”

“What are you talking about?” Andreson asked, looking more annoyed than anything else.

“A duel, madam, for the insults you have laid upon me, to prove in blood whether such be deserved.”

“Duel? Nobody does duels anymore.”

“On the contrary, madam—”

“That's
Admiral
—”

“No, madam, it is not. When an affair of honor is involved, formal ranks are discarded. You will wish to name a second—a male second, I must insist—”

“Excuse me!” Andreson had flushed. “I haven't said—I'm not about to—”

“You refuse my challenge? Then, madam, it is you who are a coward!”

“Wait a minute!” That was Pettygrew of
Bassoon.
“This is—this is ridiculous. We have a real enemy—”

“A point made by Captain Vatta,” Zavala said.

“You talked to her first?” Andreson pounced on this distraction. “You and she have been talking about me behind my back? That's outrageous!”

“I asked her to act as my second,” Zavala said. “She attempted to dissuade me from pursuing the duel, as is the duty of a second to the challenger, but she has agreed.”

“You traitor!” Andreson glared from the screen at Ky. “How dare you conspire behind my back—”

“I wasn't conspiring,” Ky said.

“You agreed to be his second. I call that conspiring.”

“I don't,” Pettygrew said. “If he called her and asked her to be his second—that's what happened, isn't it?”

“Yes,” Ky and Zavala said together.

“But she agreed,” Andreson said.

“I don't see anything wrong in that,” Pettygrew said.

“Nor I,” Argelos said. “I have known Captain Vatta longer than you and I do not think it is any more than a courtesy to someone not from our culture.”

“Well, I'm not going to get into a physical fight like some backwoods barbarian,” Andreson said, her upper lip curled. “It's disgusting.”

“I'll be your champion.” Battersea had drawn himself up stiffly. “It would be unseemly for you to fight, Admiral, but if that's what it takes to convince this…this person…then I'm willing.”

“Simon, there's no need,” she began, but Ky interrupted her.

“If he is your second, then Captain Zavala will meet him.”

“It's absurd—”

“Let me, please,” Battersea said, leaning forward.

“Have you ever dueled?” Ky asked.

“What does that matter?”

“Only that what Captain Zavala intends is a fight to the death. One of you will die. One of your ships will no longer have a captain, and may be lost to our cause.”

“Oh, he won't kill me.” Battersea looked faintly amused. “I am an expert with a variety of weapons, and I have the choice, don't I?”

“Yes: a choice of which kind of sword.”

“Simon, I don't like this,” Andreson said. “It's not civilized—”

“And now you insult my whole people!” Zavala said. “We are an ancient and honorable civilization where it is not the practice to insult others. That is civilized.”

“Don't be silly, Captain Zavala,” Andreson said. “I'm not insulting your people. Every culture has fossils in its cultural closet; we still have people who use drugs that rot their brains, despite everything our government can do. Your people may be civilized in every other way, but settling problems by brawling—”

“A duel is not a brawl,” Zavala said. “But whatever you think of it, I must have an answer. Will you accept the challenge of mortal blood and send your second to duel, or will you not?”

“And if I don't you'll run away?”

“And if you do not accept my challenge, I will proclaim your cowardice and remove myself from your command.”

“You can't call me a coward just because I won't risk a…a friend at a time like this.”

“You called me a coward for less.”

“I just meant—”

“Your answer, madam!”

“You can go if you want. I'm not going to sanction dueling.”

“Very well. Then I withdraw from this alliance. I do not place my crew under the command of a coward and fool. However, my regard for the rest of the officers involved is such that I give my word I will not reveal the location or plans to anyone else at any time.”

“You—!” Andreson spluttered a moment, incoherent, then recovered herself. “Good riddance,” she said to the whole group. “We're well shut of such an unstable person. And you've had more than enough time for lunch…back to your positions. We need work, not silliness.”

Zavala's ship had withdrawn another ten thousand kilometers when the shipboard ansible bleeped. Ky turned it on.

“Captain Vatta, my apologies for involving you in what was not, after all, an affair of honor.”

“You didn't intend it to go this way.”

“No. But I should have anticipated it. I wanted to ask you about the communications device you installed on my ship. If I am not in your alliance, you will not want me to have it, I think. Should I put it in storage for you at my next port after informing you where it is?”

The image of a shipboard ansible languishing in some commercial storage facility startled Ky into speech. “No! I mean, I am concerned that it might fall into the wrong hands. Keep it. We might cross paths again.” Perhaps, if Andreson imploded, he would come back to the alliance. An idea occurred to her. “Or perhaps you could communicate the idea of the alliance to your government, let me know what they think.”

“I know what they will think. They will think they want nothing to do with anything run by that woman. Any woman, I would say, but as you have said, the threat is very real. If a successful force were commanded by an honorable woman—” The stress on
honorable
was remarkable, considering that he wasn't shouting. “—then they might consider it. But that woman—never.” He shrugged. “Still, if you permit, Captain Vatta, I will retain the communications device and perhaps contact you from time to time with information I consider useful.”

K
y stared at the scans, littered with the course traces from the day's maneuvers. Andreson's analysis had been scathing, as usual, and this time Ky's crew had not escaped criticism. Yet even now, more than twenty days into training, Andreson seemed to have no understanding that one maneuver was more difficult than another, especially in closer formations. Ky, Argelos, and even Dan Pettygrew had tried to talk to her, but each passing day seemed to make things worse. No, she would not vary from her training schedule. No, they would not practice gunnery at all until they had satisfied her in all formations and maneuvers. No, she would not set out a detection beacon in the outer system, or entertain the suggestion that Muirtagh's nonappearance was ominous and a security breach. Ky had hoped that Zavalos' departure would get her to ease up, but if anything she had become more rigid, more autocratic.

Ky was aware that her crew didn't like Andreson's manner any more than she did. The enthusiasm they'd shown originally for this training had gradually ebbed into a sort of wary obedience that Ky had never encountered and wasn't sure how to handle. Nobody refused orders; nobody questioned her, but the ship felt different, colder in some way.

She herself had lost confidence in Andreson's ability to handle multiple ships at all, let alone in combat, but what other choices did she have? She could pull out, but where would she find other allies, especially after abandoning her first? She could try to convince Argelos to come with her, and then go searching for other Slotter Key privateers, but she had no guarantee that they would listen to her. If Pettygrew would come over to her, they could vote Andreson out, but all her training opposed any attempt to unseat a commanding officer. She had agreed to accept a subordinate position; it was her job to make it work, to be supportive.

She felt frustrated and exhausted both. All her instincts, which had served her well before, insisted that Andreson was wrong, that Muirtagh had betrayed them, that the pirates might show up any moment, in force. And yet she felt she had to set an example of correct behavior. She had made a mistake before, when she'd insisted on tackling Osman in spite of the warnings of more experienced military commanders, and it might easily have cost the lives of her entire crew; she would not make that mistake again. Andreson wasn't all bad, after all; clearly the woman had courage and wanted to close with the enemy.

When the ansible light came on, Ky groaned inwardly. This would be Andreson again, with another set of stupid complaints. Andreson insisted on keeping them in close formation, where ansible communication wasn't necessary and lightspeed worked just as well, and then used the ansible for almost every briefing. She touched the controls to open her end of the connection.

“Captain Vatta!” For a moment she didn't recognize the voice or face. Then the com board displayed the name: Zavala's
Dona Florenzia.

“Captain Zavala? What is it? Where are you calling from?”

“I'm here in the system, four light-minutes from your position. Eight enemy ships are here, too. Arm yourself.”

“What? Who? Why are you back here?” Even as she asked, Ky tapped the controls to bring weapons systems up live. She saw heads turn to her, eyes wide; she nodded.

“Captain, Muirtagh did betray us—you. I intercepted a message that they knew where you were, knew you had shipboard ansibles, and planned to attack. There are eight, in two groups of four. I expect them to jump to intercept me. I am about to engage them.”

“Alone? You can't possibly—”

“Please, Captain. There is no time. Honor required that I tell you, and that I come to your aid; you might not have believed me if I had contacted you from a distance. They entered the system hours ago, but several New Standard AU from the primary. They have been using calibrated microjumps to close in: they will be visible on your scans soon, but by then much closer, and attacking. You must persuade
that woman
”—even in an emergency, his voice was edged with scorn—“to take up a defensive formation or withdraw. They are heavily armed; I recommend withdrawal.”

“I can't make her do that,” Ky said. “She won't listen to me.”

“Then you should withdraw.”

“I can't leave the rest of them—”

“I knew you were a person of honor, Captain Vatta. I was right to return.” His head turned away from the screen; she heard noises in the background. “It will not show on your scan for four minutes,” Zavala said. “But we're now engaged. I will transmit to you the information my tactical computer gets—it may help you.”

Ky's blood ran cold. He had no chance. Up on her screen came a string of numbers; she shunted them to Jessy's board, then opened the intercom.

“Enemy's insystem; prepare for battle. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill.” The bridge crew stared at her, eyes wide, then turned to their own boards.

“Battery one, ready,” came Jon Gannett's voice. “No target data.”

“Estimate four minutes—no, three and a half,” Ky said. Zavala had left his voice channel open; she could hear his crisp, calm orders to his crew in their own language. Though she could not understand the words, she could imagine what they would be. Their voices, in the background, were barely audible, but none sounded panicky. She didn't try to speak to him. Zavala spoke to her directly only once more.

“Captain Vatta, you also need to know what I was told at my last port. They have taken another system. They know about you—they know you have Osman's ship. You must not let yourself be destroyed, Captain Vatta.”

“I don't intend to be destroyed,” Ky said. “I will do my best for the others.”

“We have serious damage,” Zavala said. “Our shields are down. We have perhaps one more shot—” Then a burst of white noise, and the connection ceased.

Ky turned to her shocked bridge crew. “We have to tell the others,” she said as she tried to open a channel to Andreson. Andreson had the unit off; it should be beeping at her com officer, but he might be on break or something.

Finally he answered. “
Flower
com; what's the problem?”

“Raiders insystem,” Ky said, and started to transmit the coordinates she had, but he interrupted her.

“Raiders? What d'you mean?”

“Get the admiral: we have raiders insystem, estimate two to four light-minutes or less.” She overheard a murmur of voices from the other ship.

“There's nothing on scan,” the com officer said.

“There will be. They're close, they'll show up anytime now.”

“She won't like it,” he said. “She doesn't want to be disturbed for the next two hours, she said.”

“I don't like it,” Ky said, putting an edge on her voice. “Get her.”

Andreson looked rumpled as well as annoyed when she appeared onscreen a few seconds later, her pale hair standing out in damp spikes. Had she been in the shower? “What is it, Captain Vatta? Do you think you have better scans than we do?”

Ky suspected that she might, but didn't say so. “No, Admiral. I had had an ansible message from Captain Zavala just now. He is—was—in this system and reported eight enemy ships—”

“He led them here!” Andreson said.

“No,” Ky said; she knew she sounded angry. “He did not. He found out in his next port that they knew about our training location and were planning to attack us; he was afraid we might not receive, or pay attention to, an ansible message. He chose to come back here, knowing the danger, to give us a chance to survive.”

“Well, where is he then? I see nothing on scan!”

“Scan lag,” Ky said. She could not believe that Andreson didn't figure that out for herself. “They're close enough that they blew Zavala's ship, and he was four and a half light-minutes away from me. I have Zavala's data from the battle; he sent it to me from his tac computer…”

“What battle?”

“The one in which he was killed,” Ky said, anger getting the better of judgment. Her chronometer ticked down the seconds. She should see something anytime now…

“Oh.” Andreson sounded abashed, for once. “I'm—that's too bad. But I don't see—”

On Osman's enhanced scan, a fuzzy speck appeared, then two more, then three, then two…emerging from jump in a classic attack formation. Two groups of four, properly spaced to avoid damage from the destruction of a nearby ship, and converging on the tight formation Andreson had demanded.

“They're on my scan now.” Ky sent the position data to Andreson's ship. “Eight of them. There's Zavala, jumping into the middle of that mess—” A ninth speck had appeared.

“Why did he do that?” Andreson asked.

Wrong question, wrong time, but maybe the answer would shake Andreson out of her immobility. “To help us. What are your orders?”

“I don't—I can't—this isn't how we planned it.”

War didn't care about plans; Ky remembered one of her instructors saying that; surely anyone engaged in warfare knew that. Ky tried analysis. “They're in the system; we're maneuvering close to serious mass, so we can't just jump out of here.”

“Is that what you want to do?” Andreson asked. “Run away?” She sounded scornful.

“No, but we are outnumbered. Maybe Zavala did them some damage and maybe not. We won't know until we can see the battle on scan, and by then they'll be much closer. They could pop out of FTL flight in the middle of our formation, if we got really unlucky.”

“We need to boost out, then, get away from here—”

“Not necessarily. We can use the mass to shield us, if they're in close…” She wanted to explain to Andreson the sequence she and Hugh had come up with in case of attack, but she wasn't sure how much Andreson could absorb. Meanwhile, her crew used Osman's enhanced scan to detect the enemy weapons and shunt those data to her board. Missile batteries…she had to assume well stocked with missiles. Beam weapons—she couldn't yet tell how they were mounted, but twice as many as their own force mustered. They'd better run; they weren't going to defeat this force.

Once she'd marked them as enemies, the tactical scan back-computed their courses, finding images no one had noticed with all the junk in this part of the system. The current scan suggested that they were within four light-minutes, their position four minutes ago. Time had passed—how close were they now? For an instant, she wondered why instantaneous communications had not led to FTL scan that would give the real-time position of ships in space. But she had no leisure to think about that.

“Arm weapons,” Andreson said. “Maintain course and formation. Uh…general call, all ships—” That was to her crew, no doubt. It was stupid to continue on their present course, to make such easy targets of themselves.

On her own scan, Zavala's ship still moved, as did the enemy's. Serene little blips—one green, the rest red, jewels on velvet sliding on glittering wires of their calculated course, the fine lines of missiles in flight, the slightly thicker ones of beam weapons reaching out, all as elegant as an etched circuit. It was hopeless; Zavala and his crew were already dead, but Ky could not help watching as the deadly lacework closed about
Dona Florenzia
and then she flared to debris as her shields failed.

Though they outnumbered him, the enemy had had to maneuver a little to attack him. Zavala's sacrifice had bought them another minute or two, and disarranged the neat pincer attack: now the group on the other arm of the X would reach them first. One of them lagged; Ky could not tell if it was damage or intention, but again, it might help. It was a tiny advantage, but in this desperate situation every advantage counted.

“We have to open out,” Ky said, watching for any sign of comprehension in Andreson's frozen expression. “We're bunched; we're easy meat here—”

“We can protect each other,” Andreson said.

They could have if they'd ever practiced it. If they had defensive assignments. If they could manage evasive maneuvers in close formation. If, if, and if.

“We can't,” Captain Argelos said. “We need to get spaced out, Ky's right.”

“This is no time to argue,” Andreson said.

“Right,” Argelos said. “I'm not arguing; I'm moving out.”

“You can't—!” Her face contorted into a mask of fear or rage; Ky was not sure which.

“Captain Vatta, what's your analysis?” Argelos said.

Ky stared at the screen, momentarily taken aback. Then she glanced at her tac analysis. “We can improve the odds by dropping toward the planet, work with that gravitation to build velocity and get some of that mass between us and at least one of the groups. Spread out enough to make targeting harder for them and give us room to shoot without hitting each other. Have to watch out for the smaller satellites and the rings…”

“Shoot me your figures,” Argelos said.