The Service of the Sword woh-4 Page 11

  By the time the pinnace was easing into Aaron's Rod's aft cargo bay, Michael had had numerous opportunities to be grateful for Lawler's rambling discourses on Masadan culture, and even more for John Hill's unobtrusive competence.

  "These women," he concluded, "are going to expect us to lord over them. We won't do that, but let's not err in the direction of self-abasement. That would just confuse them."

  "We'll follow your lead, Sir," Chief Petty Officer Keane Lorne, the pilot, said without looking up from his controls. He was busy gentling the pinnace into the gaping cargo hatch without the assistance of the boat bay tractors that would normally have handled a final approach. "Will they even want us all to leave the pinnace?"

  "I don't know," Michael admitted. "Let's let them issue the invitations."

  The pinnace came to an easy halt alongside Firebird's shuttle.

  When external readouts confirmed atmosphere and pressure had been reestablished, Michael walked to the hatch. He wore his vac suit, but carried his helmet in the crook of his left elbow, wanting to show both his face and a level of trust.

  "I'll go first," he said, repeating earlier orders. "Follow on my command."

  "Right, Mr. Winton," Chief Lorne replied for them all. "Luck."

  Michael stepped out and trotted down the steps to stand on the deck. As he did so, the hatch into the cargo bay opened, admitting several figures, all, like him, wearing vac suits. Several of these women were quite obviously armed, but they kept their weapons at rest. Their leader, a broad-figured, grey-haired woman, carried no weapons and stepped ahead of them to greet him.

  "I am Dinah," she said. "I believe I am the equivalent of executive officer. I am also one of those who established the Sisterhood of Barbara. What do you need to see to confirm our account of our actions?"

  Michael was already convinced, but he had his orders from Captain Boniece. After all, unlike the Masadans, the Silesians did not sequester their women. It was possible that the hijackers were female Silesians masquerading as Masadan escapees. That seemed like a dreadful lot of trouble to go to just to take one armed, low-tech merchie, but Captain Boniece was putting his neck on the line in being willing to help Captain Judith and her crew. He had to be able to prove before a board of inquiry that he'd confirmed their need. Getting that confirmation was Michael's job.

  "I need to see your passengers. Captain Judith spoke as if a large group is partaking in your Exodus."

  He knew from the update from John Hill that both women and children were now being reported missing on Masada, but he didn't want to show his hand.

  "This can be done," Dinah replied.

  "I would like to speak with the surviving Silesian smuggler."

  "This also can be arranged."

  "I would also like to speak with Captain Judith."

  "This, also, can be permitted."

  "My crew," Michael said. "Would you like them to come with me or to remain here?"

  Dinah's lips twitched in a tight smile.

  "I care little, but some of my Sisters would feel safer if they remained here. Perhaps they can inspect the Silesian craft?"

  "That will work," Michael agreed. "Let me introduce you."

  He did so, and was pleased that the crewmen handled themselves well. They had left their weapons aboard, but each carried a com unit so compact it was unlikely the Sisters would even recognize it. He would know if anything happened to them.

  "Commander Dinah," Michael said, "where would you have us start?"

  "The Silesian smuggler is near here," she said. "Then we will go where you may observe the Sisters."

  The Silesian smuggler was only too glad to confirm what had happened. In fact, he'd been locked up, in terror for his life, for long enough that Michael didn't even have to tell him that Firebird had abandoned him to get him to tell everything—right up to and including admitting that they had been smuggling into the Endicott System for several years.

  Michael promised that he would do what he could to get the Silesian repatriated, then followed Dinah toward a lift. Several of the armed women paced them, but as Michael offered nothing but courtesy, they had marginally relaxed.

  "All the Sisters are not gathered in one place," Dinah explained. "About a third of our number are assigned to various stations."

  Michael did a quick estimate.

  "You're rather under-strength," he said.

  "We are," Dinah retorted, "remarkable for what we have done. Do you realize that most Masadan women cannot read or do mathematics more complex than what can be counted off on fingers? That we managed this many Sisters who can at least ask the computer for assistance and understand what it tells them strikes me as remarkable."

  "I apologize," Michael said, appalled at what he was learning. "How did you manage this much?"

  "Judith was a great help," Dinah said. "She has actually been into space repeatedly."

  "The rest of you haven't?"

  "Only a few," came the placid reply. "I myself have not been for twenty years. Some of our Sisters were . . . unable to join us." Her face tightened briefly, but then she drew a deep breath and continued. "Fortunately, none of them were among our department heads."

  "Right."

  They progressed to what Michael guessed were Aaron's Rod's common areas: dormitories, cafeteria, lounge. He was introduced to someone named Naomi who in turn introduced him to some of the women and children packed into these spaces.

  "The ones experiencing the worst panic are in sickbay," Naomi said with a levelness that did not disguise her deep concern. "Happily, Elder Templeton did not stint on tranquilizers."

  "Life support?" Michael asked Dinah when they had returned to the lift.

  "In good shape," Dinah said. "I always made certain Ephraim took good care of such things. He was careful, too. A privateer cannot always go to the nearest port."

  "What about facilities for all those people if the ship has to fight?" he asked as levelly as he could, hating the image of what a direct hit on one of those crowded cabins would do.

  "We brought materials aboard," Dinah said, "but it is a weakness."

  "I see." Michael looked around for several more seconds, then turned back to Dinah. "And Engineering?" he asked.

  He had kept his tone as inflectionless as possible, but Dinah smiled grimly.

  "Our engineers' training is limited to what we could achieve from stolen simulations," she told him. "I believe that is the reason Captain Judith has been holding us to a slower acceleration rate than our impatience to be away might otherwise dictate. She fears to cut our compensator's safety margin as a more experienced crew might."

  Michael marveled at Dinah's calm.

  "What were you before," he asked, "a teacher?"

  "I was," she said. "Although not as you mean it. Remember, women are forbidden to learn. Officially, I was nothing more than Ephraim Templeton's elder wife, and mother of his children—many of whom," she finished, "are doubtless crewing the two ships that now pursue us."

  They had arrived at the bridge, and Michael, shaken to the core by everything he had learned, was unprepared for his first meeting with Captain Judith.

  Seeing her image on a transmission tape had not prepared him for the intensity of her brown-rimmed green eyes, nor for her youth. His introduction to so many of the Sisters during his whirlwind tour had brought home to him that not only was this a pre-prolong civilization, this was also a civilization that used its women hard.

  Judith, then, was hardly more than a child. He remembered hearing her declare that Ephraim Templeton had wed her when she was twelve years of age. He realized that she'd meant twelve T-years. She couldn't be more than eighteen now.

  How old are you? he thought, then realized to his horror he'd spoken aloud.

  She must have found his shock funny rather than offensive.

  "I am sixteen T-years," she said. "And you? You look the beardless boy."

  "I am twenty-one," he replied, matching her humor, "and neither of those fig
ures matter in the least. Captain Judith, could your communications officer contact Intransigent for me? I want to make my report."

  "There is a briefing room," Captain Judith offered politely, gesturing to a door at one side of the bridge.

  "If you don't mind," Michael replied, "I'll speak to Captain Boniece from right here. It will save repetition."

  Captain Judith appeared pleased by this indication of trust, and if her mouth tightened as Michael reported the limitations of her crew's abilities Michael didn't blame her. After all, Dinah was right. What the Sisterhood of Barbara had done in achieving this much of their Exodus was remarkable. It couldn't be easy to hear of their abilities spoken of in such a fashion.

  Captain Boniece listened with very little interruption, then spoke directly to Captain Judith.

  "Intransigent will cover your departure, Captain," he said. "I suggest that you raise your accel to the maximum you feel your crew can safely sustain. We have no desire to get into a fire fight with Ephraim Templeton or any Masadans."

  "We will do what we can," Judith replied. "I fear, however, Ephraim will feel differently. And there is something I must tell you, something about Psalms and Proverbs."

  Captain Boniece had sent Intransigent to battle stations, so Carlie was at the ATO's station on the bridge when Ephraim Templeton learned that the Manticorans had chosen to support Captain Judith rather than himself.

  That Templeton was furious was evident from the moment his thick-set figure appeared on the screen. However, though his blue eyes blazed with cold fury, he attempted to be polite.

  "I understand that you were not receptive to Chief Elder Simonds' request that you assist me in regaining my property."

  Boniece replied levelly, "I was not."

  "That is your right, of course," Templeton couldn't quite conceal a sneer, "but what is this Sands tells me, that not only have you refused to assist, you have informed him that you will actively impede any effort to regain Aaron's Rod?"

  "It is distinctly possible," Boniece replied, "that Aaron's Rod will be returned to you. However, it is currently in use."

  "Currently in use?"

  "The question of the ship is a delicate one, I admit," Captain Boniece said, his conversational tone at odds with the fist he clenched out of sight of the pick-up. "However, without it the people on board would have difficulty removing themselves."

  "People?" Templeton looked appalled. "You don't mean those insane bitches do you?"

  "Pardon?"

  "I have been informed that Aaron's Rod was stolen by Silesian pirates who somehow lured away a large number of Masadan women and children. It is those women to whom I refer."

  Boniece shook his head. Carlie, watching her board, realized that Aaron's Rod was increasing speed. Boniece was obviously talking to buy her time. Carlie watched, waiting to see Intransigent's pinnace depart and bring her wandering midshipman to the relative safety of the light cruiser.

  "First," Boniece said slowly, "I must disabuse you of the notion that the Silesians had anything to do with the taking of Aaron's Rod. Apparently, they were smugglers whose run happened to coincide with the arrival on Aaron's Rod of her new crew."

  "New crew? Do you mean the women?"

  "The Captain Judith to whom I spoke claims birth in the Yeltsin System," Boniece said. "She says her companions wish to emigrate from the Endicott System."

  "Judith?" Templeton was so angry that he became momentarily incoherent. "That green-eyed whore . . . Is she behind this?"

  "I suggest you speak with her yourself."

  "Speak with a woman? Are you as crazy as they are?"

  "I speak with women on a regular basis, Mr. Templeton. Umeko Palmer, my XO, is a woman. For that matter, I serve a woman—my Queen."

  Templeton's sputter faded into something far uglier, an icy fury that made Carlie shiver.

  "Captain Boniece, I advise you to cease interference in something that does not involve you or the Star Kingdom of Manticore. I will reclaim my ship and my property, with or without your assistance. Indeed, there may be others quite eager to assist me."

  "Perhaps," Boniece replied, his tone equally cold. "However, I will not. Intransigent out."

  He uncurled his fist and spoke in something more like his usual tones. Then he turned to Maurice Townsend, the tac officer.

  "Guns, stand by. Com, get me Mr. Winton aboard Aaron's Rod, I want to know what's keeping him. Then place a call to Moscow. I want her captain to know that we'll view it quite unkindly if they interfere with Judith of Grayson's efforts to return home."

  "Do you think they'll listen?" Townsend asked.

  "I think so," Boniece said, grimly. "If they don't, then Intransigent is going to be responsible for starting a shooting war with the Peeps."

  Judith had never even imagined someone with skin as dark as Michael Winton's. It reminded her of the night sky without stars. She corrected herself when he smiled at her as she concluded her report to Captain Boniece regarding the upgrades to Psalms and Proverbs. That smile and the brightness of his eyes put stars in the sky.

  Perhaps it was because Michael Winton was so unlike any other man she'd seen—more a youth hardly out of boyhood in appearance than a man, his gaze the warm brown of a friendly animal's—but she found him easy to speak to. When he offered to delay his departure from Aaron's Rod long enough to make sure they were getting everything they could out of her inertial compensator, she accepted with ease.

  It was at that moment that Intransigent signaled.

  "We've had contact from Ephraim Templeton," Captain Boniece said bluntly. "I'm squirting a copy for your information. In brief, he's extremely angry."

  "We never thought otherwise," Judith replied. "He will kill us all if he captures us, down to the least unborn babe."

  Inadvertently, she cupped her hand over her abdomen as she spoke.

  "He wants Aaron's Rod back," Boniece continued. "That may offer some protection."

  "I doubt it," Judith replied. "He is like God—terrible in His wrath."

  "Is Mr. Winton available?"

  "I'm here, Sir," Michael cut in. "Captain Judith and I have just been discussing how to increase this ship's acceleration. Their engineers . . . aren't very experienced, Sir."

  Captain Boniece blinked.

  "I should have thought of that myself." He shook his head and gave Judith a quick, measuring glance. "In fact, it's remarkable that they have managed as much as they have, under the circumstances they must have faced. My compliments, Captain."

  "I fear that Mr. Winton speaks only too accurately of our limitations," Judith admitted. "My Sisters studied hard, but the sims could teach any of us only so much, and—"

  Sherlyn cut in, just as Judith became aware of staccato voices in the background of Captain Boniece's transmission.

  "Proverbs and Psalms have raised their speed. They are splitting to go around Intransigent and come after us!"

  Boniece returned his attention to her.

  "Captain Judith, have you . . ."

  "Yes. Ephraim is angry. He is coming for us."

  "I am going to attempt to intervene, but it's going to be tough with them splitting that way. I don't want to be the first to fire."

  "I understand."

  Michael Winton leaned into the pick-up.

  "Captain, I request permission to stay aboard Aaron's Rod and assist. Chief Lorne says PO O'Donnel knows his compensators backward and forward. I think we can increase her acceleration substantially if Captain Judith is willing to let him manage her safety margin."

  "Mr. Winton . . ."

  Captain Boniece seemed to be about to refuse. Judith never knew why he didn't. Was he thinking of the vulnerability of a pinnace out there against Ephraim's enhanced privateers? Was he thinking of how coordinating a rendezvous would restrict Intransigent's own maneuvers? Was he thinking how desperately Aaron's Rod needed every trained hand?

  For whatever reason, Captain Boniece gave a crisp nod.

  "Permission
granted. You are to place yourself and your pinnace crew at Captain Judith's disposal."

  "Yes, Sir!"

  "Run for the hyper limit, Captain Judith. Good luck. Intransigent out."

  Carlie tried not to voice her protest when Captain Boniece permitted Michael Winton to stay aboard Aaron's Rod, but something must have squeaked out. Boniece gave her a thin, hard-lipped grin.

  "Well, ATO, I don't think anyone will think we've gone soft on our middies."

  She managed an answering grin.

  "No, Sir."

  "Tactical, we're fighting defensive," the captain continued. "I do not, I repeat not want to fire on either Psalms or Proverbs. However, feel free to intercept their fire."

  "You think they'll fire on us?" Maurice Townsend, the senior tac officer said in disbelief.

  "Not on us, Guns," Boniece gestured vaguely toward where Aaron's Rod was picking up speed. "On her."

  "They're splitting, Captain," Carlie reported, firing off coordinates.

  "Above and below us," Boniece said. "Not bad. They know we can only keep our wedge between Aaron's Rod and one opponent. Ephraim Templeton's on Proverbs and he sounded angry enough to blow his wives and daughters into the heavens. We'll keep between Proverbs and Aaron's Rod.

  "As for Psalms, I want point defense's perimeter extended to cover any fire from her. Send out a few decoys, too. They won't know for a while what they can ignore and what they can't. They can't be sure they didn't insult us beyond prudence.

  "Remember, they've been modified. Their power plants and compensators are better, maneuverability increased. For all we know they've been up-gunned, as well. Don't make the mistake of thinking of these as just a couple of merchies."

  Despite Boniece's warning, Carlie did find it hard not to underestimate Psalms and Proverbs. Not only were they merchies, they were from cultures several steps down the tech ladder from Manticore. It didn't take long—a couple of narrow misses on missiles—for her to realize that Proverbs and Psalms had an asset that nearly compensated for their disadvantages: killer crews.

  Their warheads were pathetic by Manticoran standards, and their ECM was even worse. But even an old-fashioned nuke could kill if it got through, and their rate of fire was high. Their fire control must have profited from enhancement as well, for their targeting was excellent and their tac officers adjusted for Intransigent's dummies with thoughtful insight.