Elizabeth Moon - Against the Odds

The scan screen blanked, broke into a multicolored hash, and then reformed with far more clarity than before. “There,” Koutsoudas said. He glanced back at his new captain. “Captain, there’s a real situation over there. The bridge officers are Livadhi’s, but they’re not in on the treachery—they believe what he’s told them. Secret orders, he says, and Serrano’s the traitor or she couldn’t have trailed him.” He tapped one of the controls, and the screen shifted to show a closeup of Vigilance ’s flank, the open shuttle bay. “They’re getting edgy, though, and I’d guess, since the weapons came off, that our people convinced ’em.”

“So—do you think they’ll arrest Commodore Livadhi?” Suiza asked.

“No, sir—he’s got the captain’s thumb.”

“The self-destruct?”

“Yes, sir. At least, we think he does. He’s in the flag office, dual screens an’ everything, including the switch.”

“But he doesn’t want to blow the ship,” Suiza said. “He wants to get to the Benignity.”

“Which he can’t do with you sitting tight like this, and Commander Serrano in a cruiser in easy striking distance. Especially not when he realizes how much of the crew we’re gettin’ off. We think he’ll threaten to blow it, try to get her to let him go.”

“She won’t,” Suiza said with utter certainty. Koutsoudas looked at her. She was a long way from the exhausted, frightened young officer who had saved them at Xavier. She had the same kind of look he associated with Serrano—with Livadhi before he went bad. She turned from him, and told her exec to take care of getting the new arrivals settled out of the way—no easy task on a patrol ship.

The next shuttle bellied up to the transfer tubing, and repeated the unloading maneuver. The first shuttle was easing back into the shuttle bay; the third and fourth were lined up to unload. Koutsoudas wondered how many personnel were waiting . . . how many had been convinced . . . well, there was a way to find out. He tapped into the communications line, and probed for Vigilance ’s internal communications. Oblo had promised to turn it to full power.

There . . .

“—But this is mutiny!” came the voice of Captain Burleson.

“Yes, sir, and reckless abandonment, that’s right.” That was Oblo, no doubt about it. In the patient voice he sometimes used with the duller pivots, he went on. “And if we’re wrong, then the admiral will do nothing but sit there and talk to Commander Serrano, and when she’s convinced we’ll all go back and be reamed out. But it’s better than ending up a Benignity prisoner, don’t you think?”

“He wouldn’t—”

“Sir, he has. There’s evidence. Thing is, we are not going to get in a fight with loyal Fleet vessels, and we’re not going to sit here and let the admiral blow us away. You have a choice, sir, of coming along willingly, or me and Methlin’ll carry you.”

“He’s not going to come,” Suiza said. “He’s a captain—he’ll want to stay.”

“The rest of you—come on—” Oblo again, a little breathless. Koutsoudas figured Suiza was right, and they’d had to knock out the stubborn flag captain. “General alert—let’s try—”

Livadhi still smiled that poisonous smile as he completed the tightbeam to Indefatigable . “Commander Serrano . . . it’s too bad you came all this way for nothing.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it nothing.” Heris’s voice steadied Petris, but Livadhi’s knowing leer still hurt. Petris could feel himself sliding into the tranquilizer’s warm dark pool; he wanted to speak, but he couldn’t figure out how. “When an admiral and his ship go missing, in time of war, people notice.”

“All you’re doing,” Livadhi said, “is ensuring that hundreds of innocent people die. They would have been safe, but for you. They could be safe still, if you do what I tell you.”

“And what is that?”

“Let me go. Pull back, you and Suiza, and let me go. I know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t think you do, Arash,” Heris said.

“They’re your people, Heris. People you love. People you hurt once—do you want to kill them now?”

“I’m not killing them, Arash—you’re the one who was planning to take them to their deaths.”

“They’d have been repatriated,” Livadhi said. “Jules promised me—”

“Jules?”

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that your people are at your mercy, Heris. I have Petris right here with me—”

“And you’re going to kill him unless I let you go, and then he’ll be killed by the Benignity? That won’t work, Arash.”

Of course it won’t work, Petris thought. I could have told you that. Bless the woman; he wished he could tell her he loved her. He relaxed, then, and let the dark pool lap over him.

“You haven’t heard me out,” Livadhi said. “You always did interrupt. Listen.”

“Arash—don’t do this,” Heris said. She felt useless; she had tried before to persuade traitors not to be traitors, and it hadn’t worked then. “You won’t get anywhere; you’ll only be killed—”

“You can’t stop me,” he said. “At best, I’ll be under suspicion the rest of my life. Why should I do that?”

“Because—” Because they had been friends. He had given her Koutsoudas when she needed him; he had let her go, with the prince’s clones, when he could have blown her away. She didn’t try to say that; he knew it already.

“I don’t want that life, Heris. I don’t want to live that way, with all those meaningful glances.”

“So you’re going to run off to the enemy, when we need you?”

“You don’t need me. You don’t even love me—”

“Love you! Is that what this is about?”

“No. Well, not entirely. Now that I’m leaving . . . I’m sorry we never got together. You Serranos are . . . special people.” The smirk on his face was infuriating; Heris wanted to wipe it off with a shovel.

“We Serranos are stubborn, arrogant, and rude, Arash. You wouldn’t have liked sleeping with me, even if I’d been willing. Now be serious—you always were a good officer. Think. This isn’t fair to your crew.”

“Life isn’t fair, Serrano. You of all people should know that.”

“Why not just kill yourself, and let them go?”

“Why would I? Heris . . . look, I wasn’t close to Lepescu, and I never went on his stupid hunts. But I knew about them. And that got me sucked in—they had something on me, so I—”

“Arash . . . you blew up two Benignity ships coming to my rescue—you can’t seriously mean—”

“Heris, you’re such an innocent. Why do you think I was even there, within range to hear you? If you hadn’t tried to fight, and that idiot in the Benignity hadn’t decided to take you out completely, you’d never have known I was there. You had something the Benignity wanted badly, and the plan was that you’d be boarded, the item removed, and then you’d be towed into a fairly lonesome sector to make your way back if you could.”

“You were after . . . the prince? You wanted the prince?”

“Yes, of course. And the clones. The Benignity thought that would give leverage . . . I didn’t want you hurt, or that old lady, actually. Her poisoning wasn’t a Benignity plan; that’s why they killed the poisoner.”

“But Arash . . .” It was useless. If he thought he’d have a good life with the Benignity . . . She squeezed her eyes shut. She had been so happy to find out that Petris was on Livadhi’s ship—she had trusted Livadhi to care for his crew as she cared for them. And now . . . he was taking them to certain death, one way or the other.