Victory Conditions (40 page)

“But we have six platforms—we can’t cover them all on that schedule.”

“I’m releasing Repair and Maintenance teams to this mission, as we’ve discussed,” Rafe said. He would have done that before, but the platforms had limited space and life support; they could not be triple-crewed for long. “We must keep the platforms up and running. They’re vulnerable to space-based physical attack, but the more likely danger is that Turek will use his moles just before or as the invasion fleet arrives. If we’re cut off—well, you know what that means.”

Denny Cuthen’s replacement, Arturo Valencia, nodded.

“So don’t let us be cut off,” Rafe said. “You can have as many people from R and M as you need. It’s better if they’re dispersed anyway. You have priority for all ISC shuttle service until your people are in place. Let me know when you have an estimate of that time, and then when they’ve arrived.” For the most distant platforms, that would take a minimum of eight days…probably not enough time, but he had to try.

“Yes, sir.”

Rafe switched off. “Emil, please get Penny and other section heads except Enforcement tipped in. I need to do a briefing. After this briefing, I’ll do another for the Board, so you might as well give them a heads-up.”

“Right away,” Emil said.

On the screens in Rafe’s office, faces began to appear. When they were all in place, Rafe turned his own video pickup on.

“Most of you are aware that there has been a threat of hostile invasion of this system for some time,” he said. “And most of you, if not all of you, know that our own ISC fleet is obsolete, badly maintained, and incapable of providing a viable defensive force. I have now been informed that an enemy fleet—a very large enemy fleet—is on its way here and expected to arrive insystem in less than eight standard days.”

The faces on screen showed every shade of shock, fear, and horror that someone like Turek could hope for.

“So far, these details have not been made public, but the Premier is planning to make an announcement within the next few hours. Our job, in this time of crisis, is to keep ISC equipment working. The better the communications, the better our chances. I have released all Repair and Maintenance personnel and all ISC-owned transport vessels to Enforcement. They will transfer to our ansible platforms and be ready to deal quickly with any problems that may arise. All ISC fleet vessels and their personnel have been deployed under the command of Jaime Driskill, who has been in charge of upgrading the fleet since I discovered its deficiencies and authorized funding for this effort. Nexus’ own space defense forces have been seconded to Admiral Driskill as well. We are expecting reinforcements from other systems, but the exact timing of their arrival—as of the enemy’s arrival—is not known. Questions?”

“Does Driskill have any kind of plan?” That was the latest head of Procurement.

“I’m sure he does,” Rafe said. “However, neither you nor I have a need to know what it is.”

“Do you anticipate a need for sudden generation of more power either here at headquarters or on the ansible platforms?” The head of Repair and Maintenance, this time, Minvier Grobb.

“I don’t know,” Rafe said. “Would that change your release of personnel to the ansible platforms?”

“No, sir, but it might change how the teams are organized. Right now, and what Enforcement asked for, is that personnel start moving to the shuttle fields and just load and go, first come, first taken, with the first shuttle heading for the most distant platform. But if you think the attack might target power source and power transfer, either here or aloft, then we should include a minimum of five specialists in power for each destination.” From the tone, Grobb thought Rafe should have asked him first; Rafe could understand the man’s frustration.

“That’s an excellent point,” he said. “In the organization and procedures I’ve seen, Enforcement would be in charge, with R and M folded in, but this is a unique situation and I should have consulted you simultaneously.” To Emil, he said, “Get Valencia in on this; we have a procedural problem.”

Valencia’s face came up, shifting one row sideways. “Ser?”

Rafe explained the situation, assigned the two section heads to work it out between them, and asked if the others had any more questions. No one seemed to, but Penny stayed connected as the others left.

“What about the others?” she asked.

“Who?”

“Mother and Dad. Should we tell them?”

The last person Rafe wanted to tell about the coming crisis was his father. And if worse came to worst, there would be no safe place anyway.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

“Now that I’ve made myself so very popular—” She winced dramatically. “—I’m wondering what you want me to do. I can keep digging in the figures, of course, but if we’re all going to be blown away, I’d rather not have my last memory be of a page in the account books.”

“Liaison,” Rafe said promptly. “I need an ISC mouthpiece to Moscoe Confederation, to Vatta Enterprises, to Moray, and to our own government. If I do it, that’s all I’ll do. And I should be staying on top of ISC functions. But only if you’re willing.”

Penny grinned. “I can do that.” No hesitation, no shakes.

“I’ll tell them all—we’ll tell them—that you’re speaking for me. I’ll tell you what resources we have and don’t have—you know most of it anyway—so just don’t promise anything we can’t deliver.”

“Right.”

From that moment, the next days passed in a blur of activity. Rafe snatched a few hours’ sleep when he could but spent every waking moment dealing with myriad large and small crises, from the failure of a supply ship to deliver enough food to one of the ansible platforms to the cook in the employees’ dining hall who suddenly went berserk and started throwing pans of hot food over the serving line, screaming “Aliens are eating the chairs!” All the usual problems, and all the additional ones brought on by the stress of longer hours and the fear of invasion.

Penny appeared on the news at least once a day to explain what ISC was doing or why it wasn’t doing what someone thought it should, and she handled all the foreign communications with the aplomb he now expected. He came into his office the third day to find her arguing with Stella Vatta.

“—the entire production run is already sold out,” Stella was saying. “We’re at maximum, we have back orders…”

“And we have an invasion now two days away,” Penny said. “I believe our need is more pressing…”

Rafe had warned her that Stella would not release any of the onboard ansibles, but Penny must have decided to tackle the problem herself. He paused just inside the door, outside video pickup range, and watched.

“Even if we released some, the shipping time is too long—they wouldn’t arrive in time—” Stella said.

“I’m willing to take that chance,” Penny said. “Why aren’t you?”

“Because I don’t want them falling into Turek’s hands, that’s why. If your government hadn’t refused to work with us, you’d have some—but it did, and the governments that agreed got them instead. It’s not my fault that your government got its tail in a knot about Vattas.” Stella had the expression Rafe knew well, and for a moment he thought there might be a battle over family honor, but Penny laughed instead, that warm, happy laugh that had disarmed so many.

“I know,” Penny said. “And I shouldn’t laugh, but really—that whole so-called chain of evidence about a Vatta conspiracy—it’s ridiculous. Rafe would have known, if there’d been one. And for our government to keep him away from your cousin Ky—”

Stella arched her brows. “Your government wasn’t the only one.”

“What do you mean? Who else would care?”

Stella sat perfectly still a moment; Rafe held his breath. How would she say it? Her voice softened a little. “Sera Dunbarger…your brother…was never the right man for Ky.”

Now it was Penny’s turn to show anger; Rafe saw the flush on the back of her neck. “I hope you aren’t saying what I think—”

“I told Rafe to stay away from her,” Stella said. “Look—I knew Rafe years ago. You probably don’t know this but he…was not a man who was…who did—”

“If you mean he was wild in his youth and had flings with young women, I know that,” Penny said coldly. “Everybody knows that. But that was Rafe then; that is not Rafe now, and Rafe now—”

“Said he loved her. I know. But I don’t believe he knows what that means. I’m not blaming him; I realize he had a horrible time. But she’s—she was—my cousin, and I didn’t want her hurt.”

Rafe edged along the wall to where he could just see Penny’s profile. She looked as angry as she’d sounded. Time to intervene. He stepped into pickup range. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “But there’s a situation. Stella, do you know anything about those reinforcements from Slotter Key? I’ve got questions from our commanders and I was going to ask Penny to ask you—”

“All I know is that they’re in FTL flight, their arrival time is uncertain, and Aunt Grace isn’t willing to say any more this close to the blowup we all expect. Rafe, if you heard what I said about you, I am sorry if it hurt your feelings…” She looked as beautiful as ever but worn. Ky’s death, he knew, must be affecting her even more than it had him.

“I have more to worry about than my feelings,” he said. “Please pass on to the Rector my concern that without a list of ship IDs, our people might shoot the wrong icons. We need some kind of recognition code.”

Stella frowned. “I forwarded that when the fleet left Slotter Key.”

“I never got it.” Rafe struggled through the chaos in his mind to remember what day that might have been. “Sorry—when did you send it? I’ve got too many details—”

“I’ll send it again,” Stella said. “Now. Of course you need that.”

“If we’ve got another traitor,” Rafe began.

“I sent it to your Defense Department,” Stella said.

“Send it to me, this time. We’ve had some problems—but I’ll see the information gets to our ships. You know our government’s asked for help from Cascadia—”

She nodded. “And I know they won’t release ships from here; they still fear that Cascadia may be the real target. But you’ve got the fleet coming from Moray.” Her expression changed as she said it; he felt the same—the combined fleet Ky had pushed for, organized, commanded…and now it was someone else’s, and she was gone.

“Hours behind Turek, at least,” he said, forcing himself away from that thought as he had many times a day since he first knew. “And no idea if any of the others will get here in time.”

“Rafe, I hope—I hope you—”

“Make it? Me, too. But I had better get back to juggling what few options we have.”

When he broke the connection, he turned to Penny. “And how are you holding up? It’s been a big help having you running interference.”

“It wasn’t very nice of her,” Penny said.

“About Ky?” Rafe looked away, then back. “Her relative, Penny.”

“Still. Now that Ky’s…gone, there’s no need to be insulting about you. And I don’t think she’s all that beautiful.”

“Penny,” he said and stopped. He found he was growing warm. “Stella didn’t just know me some years back. She
knew
me. She even fancied herself in love with me.”

“Did you love her?”

“Stella? No. She was fun…fun to talk to, fun to impress, fun to fool. I had her convinced I had bootstrapped my way up from the dregs of society—not very nice, but we were both pretending to be not very nice people, at the time. A pair of corporate spies, one slightly more experienced than the other. But love wasn’t in it. When I saw she was beginning to slide that way, I pulled out.”

“And that’s why she thinks you didn’t love Ky?”

“Probably. Look, Penny, I’m sorry but I really don’t want to talk about any of that now. I have to go on; I have to do things; if I think about Ky and all that…I can’t.”

Penny nodded; Rafe left the office, checking with Emil for any messages. Stella had sent the data on Slotter Key’s ships. He routed that to Admiral Driskill.

Mandan Reef, in FTL Transit from Slotter Key

Admiral Padhjan raised an eyebrow. “Master Sergeant, why are you suggesting we drop out of FTL at the next jump transit?”

“Orders from the Rector, Admiral,” MacRobert said. “We need to make a contact; that will determine our destination.”

“My orders say Moscoe Confederation,” the admiral said.

“With all due respect,” MacRobert said, “the admiral might want to review this data cube.” He pulled it out and handed it over. The look Padhjan gave him was not quite a glare, but very close. MacRobert had been glared at many times before, by people of higher rank than Padhjan, and knew he presented the blank impenetrable expression of experience.

Padhjan put the cube into a reader. “Is it going to self-destruct and destroy my reader as well?”

“Not at all,” MacRobert said. “But the Rector wanted it hand-delivered after we entered FTL flight and before we arrived at this next jump transition.”

Padhjan read the text, mouth thinning as he read. “I’m not sure I like this, MacRobert.” It was the first time he hadn’t used MacRobert’s old rank. “I was specifically told, more than once, that I was to place myself under the command of Ky Vatta and Ky Vatta only. Now—”