“Their targeting’s gone, their weapons—they’re standing down, Captain.” Her weapons officer sounded relieved, and no wonder.
“Is it a trick?” asked Seabolt.
“They do have Koutsoudas,” Heris said, “but he’s on our side—he’s been covering Rascal. He’s the only one I know who could possibly fox our scan of their arming status.”
“Tightbeam from Rascal,” said her comm officer.
“Put it on,” Heris said.
“Captain Suiza here . . . our scans show Vigilance is no longer targeting us, and their weapons are down.”
“We confirm,” Heris said. “Any communication from Vigilance?”
“No, sir. Wait—we have something—shuttle bay—”
“Got it,” Heris said, watching the change on her own scan screens. “Confirm shuttle bay opening.” This was crazy—was Livadhi going to launch an attack on Rascal by shuttle?
“Shuttle emerging, Indy,” Suiza’s voice said. “Our scan shows troop shuttle mass—wait—we’re getting a signal—”
“Tightbeam? General?” Heris waved at her own comm crew, who shook their heads.
“Tightbeam, sir; I’ll relay—”
Over the relayed beam came the voice of Esteban Koutsoudas. “Rascal—Captain Suiza—hold your fire. Evacuating the ship. Commodore Livadhi’s trying to defect—”
Evacuating the ship—! Heris could hardly breathe for a moment. They couldn’t get them all off—unless they could unload and go back. Would there be time?
“Permission to dock shuttle and offload troops?” Suiza asked her, breaking into the relayed message.
“Put out a tube,” Heris said. “Tell ’em to go straight out—not wait to swim all the way, if they have p-suits.”
A long moment, then Suiza came back on. “Confirm p-suits in this load. Tube’s out; ETA four point two minutes.”
Heris translated that into real distance; Rascal was practically nestled into the cruiser’s flank. “You cut that close, Captain Suiza—were you planning to clog an attempt to jump?”
“If I had to,” Suiza said. “And it gave me a clear shot.”
“Yes . . . I see that. Carry on. When you get those personnel aboard, you should probably let Koutsoudas onto scan. And if there’s anyone from my old crew, I’d like to speak to them.”
“Yes, sir. Second shuttle emerging—”
Seconds ticked by, her mind hardly needing the chronometer to sense the passage of each one, each meter gained as the shuttles moved toward Rascal. One after another . . . the entire complement, like beads on a string. That ship would be most vulnerable when she opened the hatch to let them in—but Suiza had not suggested moving back to a safer distance. Heris reminded herself to be pleased with Suiza later.
The first shuttle positioned itself close to the end of the transfer tube, and vented its internal pressure on the far side, pushing it gently against the tube. With the shuttle hatch open, the transfer tube with its rope handholds was easily accessible. One of the chiefs reached in and got the spare rope tethers, already secured to one of the tube framing members, and passed it up the length of the shuttle. Everyone took a grip, then those nearest the hatch stepped into freefall, and pulled themselves forward, toward Rascal, as the pilot eased the shuttle away again. The others, still inside, were shucked from the hatch by the rope they held.
Koutsoudas was third on the rope, and up the tube; with the first two, he cycled through the lock and into Rascal. After Vigilance it seemed cramped; he made his way to the bridge faster than he’d expected.
Suiza was watching for him. “Over here,” she said, without more than a flip of the hand in return for his salute and request to enter the bridge. “And Commander Serrano wants a report from one of her old crew. Who’s aboard?”
“I’m the only one on that shuttle. Issi Guar may be on the next. Arkady, Oblo and Meharry went to the bridge to shut down weapons.” He unfastened his p-suit, and pulled a small gray box out of its inner recesses. “Just a second, sir, while I get this going—”
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.”