A diamond-dust glitter of life pods began to spill away from the destroyers’ larger icons on Zavala’s plot, and he felt a tremendous sense of relief.
“Be advised,” Myau continued, “that my engineering officers have programmed remote self-destruct commands into my destroyers’ fusion plants. Should any of your small craft approach within five thousand kilometers of any of my units, the enabling code will be sent and the ship—and any of your personnel who may happen to be aboard it—will be destroyed.” She bared her teeth. “You won’t be capturing any classified data in this star system.”
“First, Captain Myau,” Zavala told her, “I’m relieved to discover that someone in this star system has the mother wit to step away from avoidable bloodshed. I’m sure you don’t want to hear this, but I respect how difficult your decision was, and I commend you for having the moral courage to ignore that idiot in the governor’s office and save your people’s lives. I take no more pleasure in killing people than the next man.
“Second, I have no intention of interfering with your destroyers in any way so long as they pose no threat to my own vessels or personnel. Had Governor Dueñas been willing to approach this situation with a modicum of rationality, I wouldn’t find myself forced to require you to abandon ship in the first place…and Vice Admiral Dubroskaya and several thousand of your fellow spacers would still be alive.”
He held her eyes for another moment, letting her see the truth—and the flinty determination—in his own. He chose not to mention the fact that the Royal Manticoran Navy already had more captured information and hardware to play with than it could possibly use. Three obsolescent destroyers in a nowhere star system like Saltash wouldn’t be worth the trouble to board. Nonetheless, he had to respect Myau’s determination to see to it that they wouldn’t be boarded.
“And now, Captain,” Zavala resumed, “without any desire to appear disrespectful, I think I’d better return to my conversation with Governor Dueñas. I’m assuming you’ll be in charge of search and rescue operations here in Saltash. While I can’t allow your destroyers to participate, for obvious reasons, I give you my word that any civilian vessels you may dispatch for that purpose will be unmolested. And if you require any sensor assistance to locate survivors, I’ll gladly provide it. In fact, we’ve dropped remote platforms at the site of the engagement and we’re running a plot on all your pods, small craft, skinsuit transponder beacons, and debris. If you’ll hold this circuit for a moment, I’ll have my ops officer arrange a direct feed from our CIC to provide you with that information and keep it updated.”
“Thank you,” Myau said stiffly.
“You’re welcome. As I said, I truly would prefer for no search and rescue operations to have become necessary.” He looked over his shoulder at Lieutenant Commander Gabrowski. “Arrange it, please, Alice.”
“Of course, Sir.” Gabrowski nodded from her position outside his com pickup’s field of view. She also raised one hand and pressed the palm lightly across her eyes for a moment, then grinned, and Zavala nodded back. He’d known Gabrowski would make certain the sensor feed provided nothing but the most basic, essential information to the Sollies. It would never do to give Myau a look inside the RMN’s actual capabilities.
“Good day, Captain Myau,” Zavala said, and his mouth tightened as the Solarian officer’s image disappeared.
“I suppose we’d better get the asshole back, Abhijat,” he told Lieutenant Wilson.
* * *
Fresh fury throbbed somewhere deep down inside Damián Dueñas as he stared at the wallpaper on his com. How dared Zavala simply put him on hold in the middle of a conversation?!
He sat in his comfortable chair, fists clenched on the blotter in front of him, and the anger within was welcome. It fired his determination and buttressed him against fear, and however little he wanted to admit it, he needed that buttressing. He had to be strong, show his determination, if he wanted to spin this situation into something besides a disaster when the smoke cleared. The back of his brain was already busy with ways he could demonstrate that it was actually Tiilikainen’s lack of support and Vice Admiral Dubroskaya’s wildly inaccurate assessment of the military situation and her poor and aggressive advice as his senior military officer and expert which had created this disastrous situation. Bad as it was, it still wasn’t something a skilled operator couldn’t recover from, and whatever happened, Zavala’s actions made it obvious he’d been right all along about the need to demonstrate the Manties’ rogue behavior. So—
A symbol flickered in the corner of his display, and he scowled as he recognized Kodou’s personal attention icon. He growled in irritation, but Kodou had been with him long enough to know how he’d react to any intrusion that wasn’t amply justified, and he punched to accept the call.
“What?” he snapped, not trying to hide his anger at the interruption.
“Governor,” his assistant said, “I’ve just received a report that Captain Myau’s personnel have abandoned ship.”
“What?!” Dueñas barked with a very different emphasis.
“The report came in from system traffic control,” Kodou’s struggle to keep his own voice calm was evident. “They’re arranging atmospheric clearance for the pods to planet here at Kernuish Spaceport.”
“That bitch!” Dueñas snarled, betrayed by the Navy yet again. Myau had no business—no authority!—abandoning her command! He represented the Solarian League’s authority in Saltash, not her! But what else should he have expected? Dubroskaya had been a fool, promising him victory over the Manties, so why shouldn’t Myau turn out to be a coward too terrified even to face them?!
He closed his eyes once more, nostrils flaring, and made himself suck in a deep lungful of oxygen. He stayed that way for a handful of seconds, then reopened his eyes and forced his hands to relax before his fingernails dug bleeding gouges in his palms.
Actually, this could work in his favor, he realized as the automatic spike of fury subsided. He hadn’t ordered her to stand down; she’d done it unilaterally, without so much as consulting him, far less any order to do so! It was a clear case of cowardice in the face of the enemy, one which couldn’t possibly be charged to him, since she hadn’t even consulted him…and it could only emphasize how poorly he’d been served from the very beginning by the naval forces assigned to support him here in Saltash. It was scarcely his fault the Navy had first misled and misadvised and then betrayed him.
His mind flickered through the best ways to make the Navy’s culpability clear without looking as if he were trying to alibi his own actions. Fortunately, he and Dubroskaya had discussed his original plans privately, face-to-face, here in his office. He’d have to review the records of their later com conversations, verify exactly what had been said so he could be certain his account of those initial conversations jibed with it, but he was an old hand at crafting properly phrased memoranda, and—
The wallpaper in his display—and Kodou’s image—disappeared, replaced by Jacob Zavala’s face.
“I apologize for the delay, Governor,” the Manticoran said without any discernible sincerity, “but I had to take another call. Something about saving lives, I’m afraid.”
“Should I assume you’re referring to Captain Myau’s cowardly decision to surrender to your threats?”