Free A Matter of Oaths by Helen S. Wright Page B

to make peaceful contact. If they could do their jobs
properly, there would be no need for this.
    Rafe had calculated the turn beautifully, second-guessing
the direction that the raider would choose to escape. The only questions were
the timing and the range of the raider’s weapons. Rafe did not have the shields
up, could not put them up before the turn was complete without risking the loss
of the steering vanes. If they completed their turn before they were within the
raider’s range, and if the raider was unable to jump before they were within Bhattya ’s range… Rallya ran the
calculations in her head and came up with a question mark.
    “If Rafe snaps one of the vanes, Vidar will be furious,” she
remarked for the benefit of her audience. Rasil tittered until Fadir hushed
him.
    They were coming out of the turn now, the vanes that had
been flattened against the hull straightening, restoring the spherical symmetry
of the drive field. Vidar’s team were easing into control of more and more
functions, careful not to disturb the working of Rafe’s team but relieving them
of background tasks and allowing them to concentrate on weapons, shields and
timing. Rallya sustained the effort necessary not to hold her breath until Rafe
raised the shields.
    He did it later than she would have done, perhaps making his
own balance between the slight loss of speed and the increased safety, and
perhaps catching the first signs of the raider preparing to fire: the
temperature increases along their hull, the minor adjustments in orientation.
When the raider did fire, he resisted the temptation to fire back immediately,
letting the shields take the battering they were designed to take, using the
time to decrease the range. Yes, Rallya urged. They must stop firing and lower
their shields before they jump. Wait for that moment, when there is nothing to
confuse your aim, neither their fire nor the backwash of your own, and nothing
to protect them except the favour of their gods.
    He waited, as if he could hear her, and at the moment that
the raider prepared to jump, he fired. One shot, as if he would do it neatly or
not at all. A square hit, and where there had been a shining hull, there was a
spreading mess of metal. Fadir gave a whoop of triumph.
    “Fadir, go calculate how many crew that ship could carry.”
Rallya snarled the order without taking her attention from the screens. Rafe
had switched again to long range scan. Emperors, as if he had done this
hundreds of times before, Rallya thought disbelievingly. He should have been
reacting like Fadir, exulting in his victory, not immediately wary of another
attack. How in hell was he managing to do everything so right?
    “I’ll take my team up,” Joshim decided, standing up. “We can
be ready to relieve them as soon as Rafe gives the signal.”
    Rallya grunted agreement. “I’ll bleep Jualla and her team,
send them up too.” The messager alarm was flashing insistently. “Congratulations
from our Convoy Commander and his grateful charges,” she predicted. “Wonderful
how fast they’ve all started to move now.”

     
    “Rafe down?” Rallya asked Vidar as he entered the
rest-room.
    “Yes. In the web-room, drinking alcad.” Vidar chuckled. “I’m
surprised you weren’t out there to jump on him as soon as he came down.”
    “Why should I want to do that?”
    “I can’t imagine. He didn’t do a thing wrong, but that doesn’t
usually stop you.” Vidar was in a high good humour.
    Rallya ignored the jibe, knowing when Vidar was teasing. “And
now he’s basking in applause from everyone who knows no better,” she predicted.
    Vidar shook his head. “He stopped that just as soon as it
started. Asked Churi how many people he’d helped to kill today. Everybody else
took the hint. Except Elanis. He accused Rafe of being an Outie sympathizer.
Got most upset when Rafe reminded him that his family had been Outies three generations ago.