CHAPTER

TEN

R ansome’s fellow captains—introduced by Ransome as Dennis Malachi Quartermaine St. Cyrien commanding the Furious and Allan Desmond Joachim Baskerville commanding the Courageous and—were cut from the same cloth as Ransome, though not quite as flamboyant. All three showed up in formal uniforms, the captains’ capes of silk that gave them a fine flair as they moved. They, too, had wealthy families, which came as no surprise. Ky felt old and staid beside them; Argelos and Pettygrew looked like she felt.

“You should’ve seen him at school,” said St. Cyrien. “I remember when we were taking that history class—he took it into his head to learn the fighting styles of every period—”

“Only those with swords,” Ransome said. “Much more fun than the others—”

“—and one day when our teachers arrived, he and Des and Hal were on the main stairs, whaling away at each other—”

St. Cyrien started laughing so hard he could barely talk. Baskerville stepped in to finish the story.

“They were afraid the blood was real,” he said. “We didn’t use actual sharps; our mothers would’ve killed us. And we aren’t stupid. So we’d fixed little squirt bottles of red stuff—food coloring, wasn’t it?—on the ends of the blades, so when you made contact it pushed some out. It didn’t really look that much like blood, but it was red…”

“It was just a lark,” Ransome said. “But we all got detention for it. I had to read some moldering old lecture about the evils of violence and the dangers of glorifying war…not that it had any effect…”

Ky glanced at her captains; they both had the expressions of men caught between horror and amusement, and determined not to show it.

“Not that we think war is good, you understand,” St. Cyrien said. “I mean, everyone knows it’s bad, and people die and so on. But it’s been around for thousands of years, and it’s not going away. Might as well be on the side of truth and justice and all that, and go at it with flair, don’t you think?”

“Flair is nice. Skill and training are even better,” Ky said.

“See?” Ransome said, throwing out his hands to the others. “A lady of intelligence and character as well as beauty.” He beamed at her. “We’re going to get along splendidly, I can tell. You will be the steadying influence—women always are—and I will be—”

“See here,” Pettygrew said suddenly. “Are you serious about anything?”

Ransome’s handsome face contracted in an obviously intentional scowl. “I am perfectly serious, sir—Captain Pettygrew—about opposing the scoundrels who now threaten civilization. I am prepared to give my life’s blood, if necessary—though I quite agree with Captain Vatta that we would prefer the pirates to die instead of ourselves. No one can be more serious than that.”

“How old are you?” asked Captain Argelos. “And how long do you propose to stick with this war? And what does your family think?”

Ransome waved one hand. “My family? They’re all quite mad—”

“I can believe that,” Pettygrew muttered under his breath.

“They’re in the fourth year of their cycle, and you know how that is—or maybe you don’t play evolving rings here?”

“Never heard of ’em,” Argelos said.

“Oh. Well. They’ve given up cause and effect for the time being—they’re being Irrationalists…that’s intentional Irrationalism, not accidental.”

“Doesn’t this cause…er…problems?”

“Oh, but that’s the point, you see. It’s part of the doctrine of oppositional intellects. Just as with muscles, where one contracts while another relaxes and stretches, so in our culture we exercise one intellect at a time. In the Irrationalist phase, people are legally mad—Irrationalism is insane, you know—and they all have to wear labels to warn everyone else.”

“This is all fascinating,” Argelos said. “But what I wanted to know was, what does your family think of your spending the family fortune fitting out ships and going off to war?”

“It isn’t the family fortune; it’s mine,” Ransome said. “Settled on me when I reached majority. And as for the other—they don’t think. They are absent from thinking in this phase. I imagine if they transition to Reason while I’m gone, they’ll be upset, but since no one can predict how long their Irrationalist phase will last, I don’t worry about it.”

“It runs in the family,” Pettygrew muttered.

“Tell me,” Ky said. “Is one of these phases Romanticism?”

“Of course. I’ve only been a Romantic for two years now, but I can’t imagine being anything else.”

Dead hovered on the tip of Ky’s tongue, but she managed to not say it.

When they were alone again, Argelos shook his head. “I thought you were a loose cannon when we first met,” he said to Ky. “I apologize. I’ve now seen the real thing, and you are a model of discretion and prudence.”

Ky laughed. “He’s not that bad.”

Argelos narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to tell me you find him attractive?”

“Decorative, merely,” Ky said. “But there’s always been a place in war for the decorative enthusiasts.”

“Cannon fodder,” Argelos said. “That’s their place. And your senior crew would tell you the same. Send them to charge the barricades like the fools they are.”

“You’re in a mood,” Ky said. “Let’s talk plans then. How can we use cannon fodder?”

“Why would we even want to? We aren’t fighting that kind of war.”

“Support is support. Why wouldn’t we want them? They’d be useful as couriers, as scouts—”

“They stick out like supernovas,” Pettygrew said.

“So? Who’s going to suspect that people in gaudy ships with gaudy uniforms are actually connected to a serious military force? Let them stick out. Let them swagger about, show off, all the rest of it. It will divert attention from the rest of us.”

“As long as you’re not just falling for the shiny prince-figurine—” Argelos said.

“Oh, for—no, I am not ‘falling for’ him or any of them.”

“He is handsome…and you’re…uh…of an age—” said Pettygrew, with a glance at Argelos.

“If you say the word ‘hormones’—” Ky said. She was furiously angry and moved to laugh at the same time. It was just too ridiculous.

“I didn’t. I didn’t. It’s just—” Pettygrew spread his hands.

“I don’t believe this. Just because you’re both older, and I’m a young female, you think I’m going to lose my judgment—” She walked on a few paces, trying to regain her equanimity. “It would serve you right if I did fall head over heels for him. And it might make him easier to manage if he thought I had—”

“You wouldn’t do that!” Pettygrew sounded shocked.

“Well, thank you for that, anyway. But let me tell you—” She rounded on both of them. “—I would rather do that than act like a silly schoolgirl faced with a storybook prince. Pretending romance is at least a calculated tactic; the real thing is…is stupid.”

She whirled and stalked off; the memory of Hal’s betrayal rose in her memory like bile. She had done that once: fallen in love with someone as handsome as Ransome, fallen in love with the whole idea of romance, of two hearts beating as one, two lives lived for each other. Not again. Not ever again…and she wasn’t going to tell them why, either.

But she would work with Ransome because right now he had ships she needed, and money she needed, and his aims and hers ran side by side.

She came aboard Vanguard in a black mood, not helped by the concerned expressions Hugh and Martin wore when she got to the bridge.

“Don’t say a thing,” she said. “I can read it on your faces—you think I’m impressed by a pretty face and shiny braid.”

“I—”

“No. I just got that from Argelos and Pettygrew. It’s not true. I have no interest in Captain Ransome because of his face or his uniform. My interest is military and practical: he has ships we could use, and money we need. We will work with him because we need him, and he, of course, needs us. He can’t fight a war with those little ships; he needs to ally with a force that has real muscle.”

“We just worried—” Martin began.

Ky rolled her eyes, and he stopped. “I am not a silly schoolgirl. I am not going to go breathless over every handsome face that comes along…and if I were, I’d already have fallen for a lot of men on this ship. You’re not the ugliest bunch in the universe.”

That got their attention; they both looked startled and then slightly ashamed.

“Now,” she said. “Let’s think how to use Ransome’s Rangers to our best advantage. I’m thinking couriers and scouts. They’re so flamboyant, it’s a kind of disguise; I’m sure others will see them as we did—rich playboys playing at war. If they connect us, they’ll probably think what you did—that I’ve let my hormones influence my decisions. And though I think they are rich playboys, I also think they are more than that.”

“All right,” Hugh said. “But can you trust them to follow orders?”

“Probably not,” Ky said. “But I don’t think it matters. If they’re loose cannons, they’re still a distraction to the enemy.”

“And they’ll get killed…”

“Yes, they’ll probably get killed and die convinced they’re achieving undying glory. That’s their problem. If they don’t follow orders, I’m not going to worry about their survival rate.” Ky cocked her head. “So can you quit worrying about the romantic streak I don’t have, and waste no more time on it? We have more important things to worry about.”

“I suppose we’d better,” Hugh said. Martin still looked shocked, but Hugh grinned at her. “I’m glad to find that my concerns were unwarranted, Captain, and I’m sorry to have doubted your maturity or judgment for even a moment.”

“Don’t go overboard,” Ky said, grinning back, “or I’ll begin to wonder about your sincerity. Now. Captain Ransome made an offer, before the other captains came, to help us with supplies. I realize this puts us in his debt, but we need more munitions. Adelaide Group’s not known as a big munitions dealer, but I’ve been poking around. They do have twelve hundred older SS-V-87s, which we could upgrade using components they stock in another department.”

“Twelve hundred! And what will that cost?”

“Well below what Gretna would have charged. I think I can get Teddy to buy them—and yes, I may call him Teddy if that gets the job done, and you will just have to bear it.”

“For twelve hundred missiles and the components to upgrade, I can bear a lot,” Hugh said with a smile.