The Service of the Sword

'I'm here, Sir,' Michael cut in. 'Captain Judith and I have just been discussing how to increase this ship's acceleration. Their engineers . . . aren't very experienced, Sir.'

Captain Boniece blinked.

'I should have thought of that myself.' He shook his head and gave Judith a quick, measuring glance. 'In fact, it's remarkable that they have managed as much as they have, under the circumstances they must have faced. My compliments, Captain.'

'I fear that Mr. Winton speaks only too accurately of our limitations,' Judith admitted. 'My Sisters studied hard, but the sims could teach any of us only so much, and—'

Sherlyn cut in, just as Judith became aware of staccato voices in the background of Captain Boniece's transmission.

'Proverbs and Psalms have raised their speed. They are splitting to go around Intransigent and come after us!'

Boniece returned his attention to her.

'Captain Judith, have you . . .'

'Yes. Ephraim is angry. He is coming for us.'

'I am going to attempt to intervene, but it's going to be tough with them splitting that way. I don't want to be the first to fire.'

'I understand.'

Michael Winton leaned into the pick-up.

'Captain, I request permission to stay aboard Aaron's Rod and assist. Chief Lorne says PO O'Donnel knows his compensators backward and forward. I think we can increase her acceleration substantially if Captain Judith is willing to let him manage her safety margin.'

'Mr. Winton . . .'

Captain Boniece seemed to be about to refuse. Judith never knew why he didn't. Was he thinking of the vulnerability of a pinnace out there against Ephraim's enhanced privateers? Was he thinking of how coordinating a rendezvous would restrict Intransigent's own maneuvers? Was he thinking how desperately Aaron's Rod needed every trained hand?

For whatever reason, Captain Boniece gave a crisp nod.

'Permission granted. You are to place yourself and your pinnace crew at Captain Judith's disposal.'

'Yes, Sir!'

'Run for the hyper limit, Captain Judith. Good luck. Intransigent out.'

Carlie tried not to voice her protest when Captain Boniece permitted Michael Winton to stay aboard Aaron's Rod, but something must have squeaked out. Boniece gave her a thin, hard- lipped grin.

'Well, ATO, I don't think anyone will think we've gone soft on our middies.'

She managed an answering grin.

'No, Sir.'

'Tactical, we're fighting defensive,' the captain continued. 'I do not, I repeat not want to fire on either Psalms or Proverbs. However, feel free to intercept their fire.'

'You think they'll fire on us?' Maurice Townsend, the senior tac officer said in disbelief.

'Not on us, Guns,' Boniece gestured vaguely toward where Aaron's Rod was picking up speed. 'On her.'

'They're splitting, Captain,' Carlie reported, firing off coordinates.

'Above and below us,' Boniece said. 'Not bad. They know we can only keep our wedge between Aaron's Rod and one opponent. Ephraim Templeton's on Proverbs and he sounded angry enough to blow his wives and daughters into the heavens. We'll keep between Proverbs and Aaron's Rod.

'As for Psalms, I want point defense's perimeter extended to cover any fire from her. Send out a few decoys, too. They won't know for a while what they can ignore and what they can't. They can't be sure they didn't insult us beyond prudence.

'Remember, they've been modified. Their power plants and compensators are better, maneuverability increased. For all we know they've been up-gunned, as well. Don't make the mistake of thinking of these as just a couple of merchies.'

Despite Boniece's warning, Carlie did find it hard not to underestimate Psalms and Proverbs. Not only were they merchies, they were from cultures several steps down the tech ladder from Manticore. It didn't take long—a couple of narrow misses on missiles—for her to realize that Proverbs and Psalms had an asset that nearly compensated for their disadvantages: killer crews.

Their warheads were pathetic by Manticoran standards, and their ECM was even worse. But even an old- fashioned nuke could kill if it got through, and their rate of fire was high. Their fire control must have profited from enhancement as well, for their targeting was excellent and their tac officers adjusted for Intransigent's dummies with thoughtful insight.

'I wonder,' Tab Tilson commented after a particularly nasty brush, 'just how many merchant vessels were 'lost' to this pair?'

'Too many,' Boniece commented. 'We may owe the Silesian pirates an apology.'

There was a harsh laugh at that, but then Psalms put on a burst of acceleration, obviously trying to edge around Intransigent and get at Judith's ship. Ignoring the light cruiser, Psalms bore down on Aaron's Rod, seeking an angle where the other ship's wedge wouldn't protect her from attack.

Boniece was issuing orders with the measured calm that came over him when he was at his most intense, and Carlie felt her fingers flying to comply. One, two, three . . . She thought she had intercepted all the missiles heading toward Aaron's Rod, then another battery went off.

Four, five . . . 

Aaron's Rod fired lasers, intercepting the incoming missiles neatly, but a fresh broadside followed on their heels.

'Captain,' Carlie heard her own voice like a stranger's, 'Proverbs is speeding up and edging around us to port. If we're not careful . . .'

'Keep us between Proverbs and her target,' Boniece commanded. 'So far Aaron's Rod is doing some tidy defensive fire.'

Carlie glanced at her board, but the hyper limit was still impossibly far away. She didn't know how much longer they could keep this on a purely defensive footing. The consequences if they did not, especially since to this point neither Psalms nor Proverbs had fired on Intransigent . . . 

She couldn't let herself think about it. Then she saw it, a missile from Psalms slipped through the joint defenses.

'Aaron's Rod has been hit!'

Michael Winton had gotten off the bridge almost immediately. His peculiar rapport with Captain Judith didn't extend to the rest of her bridge crew—Dinah possibly excepted—and he knew he was interfering with her ability to command.

He convinced Zaneta, the head of his armed escort, to take him back to his pinnace.

'O'Donnel, they need you in Engineering,' he said crisply, and waved at one of Zaneta's Samson's Bane. 'She'll take you there. How far you reduce the safety margin is up to Captain Judith, but I think we're going to have to get as close to maximum military power as you can take us.'

'Aye, aye, Sir.'

The petty officer sounded calm, but Michael saw the truth in his eyes. Maximum military power would mean