Young Miles - Lois McMaster Bujold [52]
Elena and Mayhew stood waiting, looking at him expectantly. Miles suddenly realized he had not seen Baz Jesek in the fight—wait, there he was, pinned against the far wall. His dark eyes were like holes in his milky face, his breathing ragged.
"Are you hurt, Baz?" Miles cried in concern. The engineer shook his head, but did not speak. Their eyes met, and Jesek looked away. Miles knew then why he hadn't noticed him.
We're outnumbered two or three to one, Miles thought frantically. I can't spare a trained fighting man to funk—got to do something right now. . . . "Elena, Arde," he spoke, "go out in the corridor and close the door until I call you." They obeyed, looking baffled.
Miles walked up to the engineer. How do I do a heart transplant, he wondered, in the dark, by feel, without anesthetics? He moistened his lips and spoke quietly.
"We've got no choice. We have to capture their ship now. The best shot is to take their shuttle, make them think it's their own people coming back. That can only be done in the next few minutes.
"The only chance of escape for any of us is to take them before they get a squeak out. I'm going to assign the Sergeant and Daum to take their Nav and Com room, and prevent that. The next most vital section is engineering, with all the overrides."
Jesek turned his face away, like a man in pain or grief. Miles went on relentlessly.
"You're clearly the man for that one. So I'm assigning it to you and—" Miles took a breath, "and Elena."
The engineer turned his face back, if possible more drained than before. "Oh, no . . ."
"Mayhew and I will float, stunning anything that moves. Thirty minutes from now it will all be over, one way or another."
Jesek shook his head. "I can't," he whispered.
"Look, you're not the only one who's terrified. I'm scared witless."
Jesek's mouth twisted. "You don't look scared. You didn't even look scared when that mercenary pig decked you. You just looked pissed."
"That's because I've got forward momentum. There's no virtue in it. It's just a balancing act. I don't dare stop."
The engineer shook his head again, helplessly, and spoke through his teeth. "I can't. I've tried."
Miles barely kept his lips from curling back in a snarl of frustration. Wild threats cascaded through his mind—no, that wasn't right. Surely the cure for fear was not more fear.
"I'm drafting you," Miles announced abruptly.
"What?"
"I claim you. I'm—I'm confiscating you. I'm seizing your property—your training, that is—for the war effort. This is totally illegal, but since you're under a death sentence anyway, who cares? Get down on your knees and put your hands between mine."
Jesek's mouth fell open. "You can't—I'm not—nobody but one of the Emperor's designated officers can swear a vassal, and I was already sworn to him when I got my commission—and forsworn when—" he broke off.
"Or a Count or a Count's heir," Miles cut in. "I admit the fact that you're previously sworn to Gregor as an officer puts a wrinkle in it. We'll just have to change the wording around a bit."
"You're not . . ." Jesek stared. "What the hell are you, anyway? Who are you?"
"I don't even want to talk about it. But I really am a vassal secundus to Gregor Vorbarra, and I can take you for a liegeman, and I'm going to right now, because I'm in a hell of a hurry, and we can work out the details later."
"You're a lunatic! What the bloody hell do you think this is going to do?"
Distract you, thought Miles—and it's working already. "Maybe, but I'm a Vor lunatic. Down!"
The engineer fell to his knees, staring in disbelief. Miles captured his hands, and began.
"Repeat after me. I, Bazil Jesek, do testify I am, am, am a forsworn military vassal of Gregor Vorbarra, but I take service anyway under—under—" Bothari will be hot as hell if I break security, "under this lunatic in front of me—make that, this Vor lunatic—as an Armsman simple, and will hold him as my liege commander until my death or his releases me."
Jesek, looking hypnotized, repeated the oath verbatim.
Miles began. "I, uh—I better skip that part—I, a vassal