The intersection of drones could be tricky. Since it was an advantage to be the second drone on the spot, so as to be able to fire on the first and destroy it, drones were given to abrupt cessations of acceleration near the point of intersection, to change their moment of arrival and foil the timed shells.
They could also increase acceleration, to leave the shells behind. Even with light-speed tracking, there was a brief delay in corrections, and the tolerance was narrow, so there was only about one chance in three that a computer-placed shot would score. This was normally compensated for by having the defensive drones (that is, the drone-fighting drones) fire in formation, placing three shots in a line before the enemy drone. If all the spots the enemy could be were covered by exploding shells, then the likelihood of destroying it became total. But that used up a lot of ammunition. Each of our drones carried six shells, so could take out only two enemy drones on that basis—if it had time to orient on two. And if the formation was correct, since it actually required three drones to place a line of shells in front of any enemy drone traveling at right angles. So, in the very best of circumstances, we could take out only sixty-six enemy drones, and the two remaining would have a clear shot at the base. Our best was not good enough.
The two fleets moved close together. On the radar screen the blips were on the verge of merging. The moment of decision was at hand. I dreaded it.
Suddenly the Society blips were obscured. All across the formation they were breaking up.
“One hundred percent, sir,” a technician reported, interpreting the radar image.
Emerald relaxed. “That's it, then.”
“They're gone?” I asked, bewildered. “But the flights didn't even intersect!”
She sighed, pleased. “Must I draw you a picture, sir?”
“That might help.”
She grabbed a note pad. She drew a pattern of dots. “Here is the enemy's nestled V-formation,” she explained. “Note how no two drones are on the same horizontal line.”
“Yes, of course. So we couldn't—”
“Note how they happen to fall into bias lines, five ships per line.”
“But that's no good to us,” I protested. “We were proceeding at right angles.”
“We were coasting at right angles,” she said. “But the orientation of our drones changed. We oriented on their lines and fired—”
“On the bias!” I exclaimed, catching on at last. “Slantwise, early, so as to catch five ships per line!”
“Well, some of their lines are partial,” she said. “But we caught them before they made their evasive acceleration, so they were sitting ducks. Some of our ships took out five, and some only took out one, but we were able to cover them all in a single sweep. The Society threat is over. Now all we have to do is round up their fleeing carriers for salvage.”
“It's so obvious in retrospect,” I said. “Why didn't they anticipate this?”
“Why didn't you , Worry?”
I shrugged. I had indeed been worrying! “I suppose I'm just a conventional thinker.”
“Well, you'll have credit for one more brilliant victory, figurehead.” There was no bitterness in this statement; she knew that scholars of this campaign would quickly catch on to the truth. The Rising Moon had proven herself—again.
But already we had to plan for another battle, for the Samoans, the drug dealers of the Belt, were organizing. We had eliminated, in order, the pornographers, the gamblers (well...), the smugglers, the slavers, and the fencers, but Commander Repro and I had personal reasons to get the druggers. In addition, we knew that if we did not destroy the last of the major bands, Samoa would simply move in and restore the prior order of piracy.
At this point I was satisfied to leave our strategy to Emerald. I had to plan for the time beyond that last battle, our departure from the Belt. We had fences to mend back at Jupiter. I discussed it with my wife.
“We shall have to leave soon, Rue,” I said. “My task force was commissioned only to clean up this mess in the Belt; the moment that's done, I must bring the fleet home. Once again I must remind you that you are free to—”
“That game,” she said. “The one in the water. I think I know how to play it better now.”
“I'm sure you do,” I agreed, putting off whatever she had in mind until I had established my position.
“There are certain problems, either way. If you choose to come to Jupiter, you will have to leave your family and band, and it may be your father will need you here. The organization of the supplementary fleet we have developed from salvage will fall to him—”
“Just tell me you will drown me,” she said.
“On the other hand, if you come with me, as you are welcome to do, you will always be dependent on me for your status, for you will have none of your own at Jupiter. You must remain married to an officer of my level. So you should consider very carefully whether—”
“Please don't drown me, sir!” she cried. “I'll do anything you say!” She flung her mass of red hair about fetchingly.
“And, too, you must appreciate that you can no longer be my Operations officer there. The assignment has force only during this mission, in my task force. So I really cannot offer you much—”
She clutched my shoulders, drew me in, and kissed me. If this was feigned passion, it was an excellent feign. “Okay, kiss me,” I murmured after the fact.
She reached up and tore open her own blouse. “Oh, sir—please don't rape me violently! I'll submit peacefully!”
“But I don't like submission,” I protested. “I prefer mutual—”
“I'll pretend! I'll pretend!” she cried, bearing me back upon the bed.
This was getting quite interesting! “How well can you feign it?”
“About as well as you feigned fighting for me, there on the beach when you berserked.”
“Rue, I wasn't feigning tha—”
She shut me up with another kiss. I shrugged mentally and proceeded to it. She was, after all, an incandescently attractive young woman, and this was the closest yet she had come to the sort of passion I preferred.
But as the climactic moment approached, she paused, suddenly sober. “Hope—”
“Don't tell me!” I said. “I don't want to be reminded of the pretense. You're doing great!”
“Would you hit me, please.”
For an instant I froze. Then I realized that this was the one pretext she still required—reduced to a token, but still necessary. I brought up my hand and slapped her cheek hard enough to sting but not to hurt her. “Bitch!” I murmured.
Then she was all mine, or I was all hers, and it was good indeed. There is at times great joy in young flesh. But I realized that this was about as far as she could go toward my type of love. I had to be thankful that she tried so hard to reach this point. She really did want to please me, and had met me more than halfway, and I was deeply flattered by her effort. She did indeed please me.
As we lay there in relaxed dishevelment, there was a knock on the door. That had to be one of my staff; only they sought personal contact at this hour.
“Go away!” Rue called languidly.
But the knock repeated. Angrily, she flounced off the bed and proceeded naked to the door. She flung it open. “Go away, creep! I'm getting raped!”
Gerald Phist stood there, somewhat abashed. “I regret—”
“You want to rape me, too?” Rue demanded, hands on hips.
“Not exactly, attractive as you are. Something has come up—”
I knew Phist wouldn't interrupt like this without solid reason. “What is it, Commander?” I called.
“Sir, I regret to inform you that orders from Jupiter—”
“Jupiter wants to rape somebody?” Rue demanded.
“I'm afraid so,” Phist said, evidently embarrassed by more than her spectacular nudity. “I am directed by the duly constituted authority, in accordance with article—”
“What's the gist?” I interrupted, alarmed.
“Sir,” he said miserably. “I must remove you from command of the Task Force, and—”
“What?” Rue cried, her breasts quivering with indignation.
“—place you under arrest,” he finished.
“You can't do that!” Rue cried, outraged.
“He can do it, and he has to, or he wouldn't be here,” I told her. Then, to Phist: “What pretext?”
“Insubordination, sir. Consorting with pirates. Cowardice in battle.” He grimaced. “I want you to know, sir, I support none of these charges. But—”
“No, I understand, Gerald,” I said. “Do your duty.”
“I must confine you to quarters. And your sister.”
“She's your wife, imbecile!” Roulette snapped.
“Yes,” he said soberly. “And I must ground the fleet.”
“But we have to fight the Samoans!” Rue said.
“No. The directive is most specific. No further combat.”
“This close to finishing it?” she demanded. “I smell a—”
Phist nodded, agreeing. “But the directive is clear. I'm sorry, sir.”
“May I make a call out?” I asked, numbed.
“No, sir. You are to be incommunicado.”
They were closing the net suddenly and tight! Which was of course the way such dirt had to be done.
“Roulette—surely she is permitted to call her father?”
Phist hesitated. “It is true she is not Navy.”
“Go call your father,” I told her. “Tell him I have been deposed and arrested, so must void our marriage.”
“Void our marriage!” she exclaimed, shocked.
“You are better off now with your father.”
“No,” Phist said. "I cannot permit her to leave our custody. She is privy to too much Navy information.
She may inform her father but cannot join him."
“But she's a civilian!” I protested.
“She is a pirate. She must be interned.”
I sighed. “Go make your call, Rue.”
“Like hell! None of this shit is—”
I lashed out with my hand, catching her cheek with a backhand blow. “You understand me, wench? Tell your father! ”
She stared at me, rubbing her face. I had never before struck her that hard. “I—understand you, sir.”
She fetched her clothing and donned it while Phist waited, ill at ease.
“I wish you hadn't hit her,” he muttered.
“I had to make my point.” Of course, I hadn't liked doing it but had to show her that I was serious, pirate fashion. There was more to her message for her father than the spoken part.
In short order Roulette was ready and left with Phist to make her call. Phist would monitor it, of course, and cut off the call if she said anything more than was proper in the circumstance. He would follow the book precisely.
Rue turned briefly at the doorway and glanced back at me. Already a mark was beginning to show on her cheek. It was, ironically, the mark of my affection. Then she moved on out. Phist closed the panel behind them, and I heard the lock click. I was a prisoner.
Gerald Phist was an honest man; he followed the directive to the letter. He proceeded to an efficient reorganization of all properties of the Task Force, preparatory to the voyage back to Jupiter, and disposed of all non-Navy equipment. We were permitted to monitor these preparations on the interfleet video system, since the directive covered only what we were allowed to communicate out, not what we received. Thus we knew what was going on without in any way affecting it.
Mondy and Emerald were allowed to visit me at will, and Spirit and Repro, for all were under similar arrest. Our section of the ship was simply cordoned off, and only service personnel on specific business were permitted to enter. Phist himself stayed clear, not even communicating with us; in no way could he be said to be in violation of any aspect whatever of the letter or spirit of the directive.
Rue, interned with us, seethed. “The bastard's mutinied!” she exclaimed. “He's taken over your command!”
“Commander Phist is a good man and a fine officer,” I said. “He is doing his duty, nothing else, as he always has, regardless of personal considerations. I can't fault him.”
“But he's torpedoing the whole mission! The Samoans will take over!”
Mondy smiled. On this occasion we were all seated around my chamber, which, as the Captain's quarters, was the largest and best furnished. “May I, sir?”
“By all means, Peat Bog,” I agreed.
“Perhaps you have not paid proper attention to the incoming data, Roulette,” he said. “It tells a story of probable success despite adversity.”
“All I've seen are ships being mothballed and our plunder ditched,” she said.
“The Jupiter Navy does not plunder,” Mondy said. “The pirate ships we captured and recommissioned are being sold to the highest bidder, in accordance with regulations. The proceeds will be used to liquidate all outstanding Navy debts in this region.”
“What about all the money you borrowed from my father to buy supplies?” she demanded.
“Precisely. That debt is in the process of being settled.”
“And who the hell is buying these ships?” she continued. "Those aren't just scrap metal, you know!
Those are functioning carriers and cruisers and destroyers; in fact, they now amount to more than half the fleet! Any pirate who gets hold of those ships can dominate the Belt, or whatever part of it the Samoans don't take over.“ She paused, alarmed at her own assessment. ”Who is buying those ships?" she repeated.
“Your father.”
That stopped her for a moment. “What does he want with a battle fleet? All he wants is a legitimate gambling empire.”
“I believe he plans to engage the Samoans,” Mondy said, innocently.
“He can't! They have more hardware. The full Task Force could have tromped them, but not half of it, with no Navy crews and no genius strategy. It'll be suicide!”
“Those ships do have crews,” Mondy said mildly. “The pirates who have joined us have been released, as there is no future for them at Jupiter, and they are not prisoners. There is no longer an alliance between the Navy and the Solomons band, so their allegiance devolves on Straight, the dominant pirate leader.”
“No alliance? My father's a pirate, but he keeps his word!”
“He kept it,” Mondy said. “The Navy broke off the alliance, with Captain Hubris's deposition and the voiding of your marriage.”
“There's no voiding! I never agreed to that!”
“But you did relay Captain Hubris's message to your father.”
“Yes. But my father knew that wasn't real.”
“Why not?” Mondy asked, knowing the answer.
She touched her cheek, which showed a bruise. “Because Hope hit me. Hard enough to show. He never did that before, not since the wedding. My father saw that mark.”
“And so your father knew that the Captain still laid claim to you,” Mondy said. “Yet his message was that the marriage was voided. Didn't that seem strange to you?”
“It meant he still wants me as a concubine,” Rue said, her lower lip trembling. “I'll settle for that.”
I started to speak, but Mondy wasn't finished. “But without formal marriage,” he pointed out, “the alliance between your two groups has no basis. Straight's on his own now, owing nothing to the Navy.”
“And he's fool enough to fight the Samoans for you!”
“You misunderstand,” Spirit said. “That mark on your face belied the captain's words. Officially he was terminating the alliance, but in reality he was continuing it. That's why your father is acting. He knows he must do what the Navy will not do, and that we are backing him in the manner we are able.”
Rue nodded, brightening. “Still, my father doesn't have to—”
“Well, it is a question who will be the dominant power in the Belt, once the Navy presence is vacated,”
Mondy said. “Evidently Straight prefers to assume that mantel himself. It does seem reasonable in the circumstance.”
“But he can't take Samoa! Not without her.” She gestured to Emerald. “You know she's the reason the Navy has been so successful in the Belt.”
“One of the reasons,” Mondy agreed. “I could be inclined to give credit also to the accurate intelligence provided by my department, the superior logistical performance of Commander Phist, and the inspiring leadership of Captain Hubris.”
“But my father has none of that! He doesn't even have me to command his fleet! He's a gambler, not a warrior!”
“Well, he may have some of it. It seems that the civilian employee Isobel Brinker elected to take employment with Straight, rather than remain as a clerk in the Navy; I gather he offered her command of a cruiser. She happened to have in her possession a dossier I had prepared on the Samoan pirates, including the most recent and accurate intelligence estimates of their strength and dispositions, and a tentative plan of battle worked out by my wife—”
Rue stared at him. “You slimy dog!” she exclaimed admiringly. “You could be hung for that!”
“I really don't know how she got hold of that dossier,” Mondy said innocently. “It was securely locked in my file.”
“She's a pirate! She knows how to get into a locked file!”
“So it seems. I shall, of course, accept responsibility for the oversight; no doubt I shall receive a stern reprimand.” He shrugged. “But it was a standard Navy security file cabinet, and the material was not relevant to Naval interests following Captain Hubris's deposition, since we have no intention of engaging the Samoans, so I doubt there will be very much of an issue made. In any event, it is useless to bemoan the loss now; the damage is done.” Somehow Mondy did not look regretful.
Roulette's brow wrinkled. “How could all this just happen so fast, with no meeting or discussion? How could my father know? I didn't tell him! I had no inkling!”
Mondy spread his hands deprecatingly. “A smart commander prepares contingency plans, in case of surprise developments. In the course of exchanging information, in order to ensure proper liaison between our fleets, I may have mentioned something about surprises. Casually, of course; it would not have been my place to make any official statements. But I believe it is generally known that on occasion there are unforeseen consequences for the proper performance of one's job, as was the case with Commander Phist some years back, and Sergeant Smith.” His lips quirked wryly.
“You told my father the Navy would bust my husband for doing his job?”
“Naturally not! I merely reminisced about past events. I have had a certain experience with the ways of the Navy. Your father is an intelligent man, master of the finesse. Possibly he drew a conclusion that should have seemed unwarranted at the time. Certainly I am paranoid about things that no longer exist. I even dream about them.”
“I always wonder what Rising Moon saw in you,” Rue said. “Why she holds your hand at night. I'm beginning to get a glimmer. You have an obscenely suspicious mind.”
Emerald took Mondy's hand. “Isn't it awful!”
“But Commander Phist—he doesn't know? He's not stupid—”
“There is nothing stupid about Old King Cole,” I said. “He knows what's going on. He is simply following the letter of the law, as he always has.”
“But he could scotch this transfer of ships and personnel and information anytime!” she said.
“He has not been directed to do so. He has been directed to reorganize the Task Force for prompt return to Jupiter, purging it of foreign elements. I'm afraid you have lost Shrapnel, Rue; he'll probably command a ship for your father.”
“Shrapnel,” she murmured. “I wonder what his song was?” Then she reverted to the more vital matter.
“But Phist knows what's happening! All he has to do is tell Jupiter—”
“To blow the whistle?” Spirit asked. We all laughed.
“What would he tell them?” I asked after a moment. "About conjectures? Hearsay? Paranoia?
Scuttlebutt?“ I shook my head. ”He would not stoop to that sort of thing. The admirals back home are not interested in sordid pirate gossip."
Rue nodded. “I guess Phist is more man than I figured, too. He's making it all work out right.”
“A man can be honest and gentle,” Spirit said, “and still be worthwhile. I married him for other reasons, but I would have chosen him for love, had I known.”
Rue pondered, considering that. She had been learning a lot about gentle men recently. Then her gaze turned on me. “What will become of you, Hope?”
“I'll be court-martialed,” I said. “The responsibility is mine; my officers simply obeyed my orders. They are clean, but there's not much question of my guilt. This has been a remarkably un-Navy campaign.”
“But you didn't do it! You're a figurehead!”
“All was done in my name. I take the credit—and the blame. I would not have it otherwise. The record shows that I have indeed pursued my mission beyond my authority and did indeed flee before the enemy for six days—”
“But that was strategic!” she protested. “And you turned around and destroyed them when a conventional approach would have decimated your forces!”
“But it looks like cowardice, and that is bad for the Navy image. Appearance is more important than reality at times. And I have certainly consorted with pirates.”
“Such as my father—and me.”
“I'm afraid so. So I will be found guilty of at least one count and probably stripped of my commission, or at least be reduced in rank.”
“But you've done everything they wanted! You wiped out the pirates of the Belt with few losses, and freed the base—”
“Captain Hubris has done more than they wanted,” Mondy said. “There's the key.”
The key. That reminded me of the one I carried, that QYV still wanted.
“But if they didn't really want the Belt cleaned up, why did they send him?” Roulette was still having trouble with the background.
“They thought he would fail,” Mondy explained. “As he would have, had he insisted on planning strategy himself, as most commanders do. Hope has no special talent for that. He is intelligent and motivated, and his men are devoted to him—I'm sure Sergeant Smith has his hands full, now, keeping them in line—but he is no strategist.”
“But—”
“But the salient quality he does have does not show well on the standard tests,” Mondy continued.
“Hope is a born leader, not by rhetoric or force of personality or ruthless application of power, but by his inordinate talent to grasp the true nature of men and thereby to inspire their loyalty. Thus he lacks the overt abilities of a conqueror but has established those abilities in his staff.”
“He hasn't shown much understanding of me! ”
Emerald laughed. “His talent fails when his emotion gets in the way. I was always able to fool him.”
Rue's eyes narrowed, then relaxed. “I told him I hated him—”
“And he believed you,” Emerald said, nodding knowingly. It was as if I wasn't there.
“My father had it figured,” Rue said. “He had Hope picked out for me from the moment the fleet set out from Jupiter. God, I was angry!”
“Your father sought the best possible match for you,” Mondy agreed. “He knew you would submit to no ordinary man either in body or emotion, but Hope has the ability to—”
“To conquer unruly women,” Rue concluded, glancing at Emerald. “But I still don't see why Jupiter wanted the mission to fail. First they sent a man they thought couldn't do the job. When he started doing it, they cut off his supplies. When he fled before the enemy, they let him be. But when he turned about and beat the pirates, they deposed him—right before final success. Why? ”
“They had to act when they did,” Mondy said. “The other pirates are expendable, but the Samoans control the drug trade.”
“Which is why they must be destroyed,” Repro put in. “The drug trade is more insidious and damaging to our society than piracy itself. It does to the society what the drug does to me.”
Now Rue focused on Repro. “My father said if he had wanted to destroy the true threat to piracy in the Belt, he'd have sent an assassin after you. But you're the least effective officer in this bunch! You're slowly dying!”
“True,” Repro agreed. “I'm only a dreamer.”
“Whose dream almost came true,” I murmured.
“I still don't get it,” Roulette said. “Why does Jupiter want the drug trade to continue?”
“You see, many legitimate elements of the Jupiter society use those illegal drugs,” Mondy said. “They can't afford to have their major source of supply cut off. So while public pressure required that the Marianas be punished for stepping on our base, it was never intended that piracy itself—particularly the Samoans—be extirpated from the Belt. Had Hope gone straight to the Marianas and liberated the base, or had he bungled the job, all would have been well. But when he forced their hand by succeeding too well, the powers that be acted.”
“Seems to me there are worse pirates in Jupiter than in the Belt,” Rue muttered darkly, and I was surprised to see the others nod agreement. “But now my father will do the job, anyway. He has no truck with drugs.”
“So it seems,” Mondy agreed. “The Jupiter authorities will be furious, but fortunately our fleet will be safely out of it before the final battle occurs. They will not be able to blame us for that.”
“They'll try, though!” she said. “They'll crucify Hope!”