Engaging the Enemy (37 page)

“Were you serious about wanting to try to ameliorate Furman's sentence?”

“I don't want to be impolite,” Ky said. “But a death sentence for being rude to the judge does seem harsh by our standards.”

“I suppose it does to outsiders,” the barrister said. “But there is evidence that Furman knew our laws; he had been here before and both times he certified his understanding and acceptance, as you did this time. In our experience, adults who cannot control their behavior any better than that will cause others damage. However, if you want to attempt intervention, the available alternative punishment is personality restructuring, with the individual then put in custody of a guarantor. If you petition for this, you will have to stand as guarantor; Furman will become, essentially, your ward.”

“Personality restructuring…”

“We actually consider that harsher than death, since it makes the individual into someone else, someone who is not legally competent. The judicar did say that this was a most unusual case, and you had behaved very well; thus he is willing to consider that option if you request it, but you must take responsibility for Furman if that is the case.”

“He would be…changed completely, you're saying.”

“I'll send you a file. It explains the process. Furman exhibited verbal and potentially physical violence toward others; he had also demonstrated dishonesty. The potential for these would be eliminated from his behavior…”

“I see,” Ky said, though she was not sure she understood how this would work. Slotter Key's constitution did not allow for meddling in the personality of any competent adult.

“I'll send the file on over,” the barrister said.

Ky leaned back in her chair and started to put her feet up, but the comunit buzzed again. Muttering a curse, she answered.

“Stella needs you,” Quincy said. “Now.”

“On my way,” Ky said. She explained briefly to her bridge crew on the way out.

“Want me to come?” Rafe asked.

Ky shrugged. “If you think you can help. But first I have to talk to her. She may not want you to know.”

Stella's captain had cleared out of his cabin so she and Ky could talk, a courtesy Ky appreciated. The once familiar cabin now seemed cramped and very clearly belonged to someone else. Someone—Stella, she assumed—had had the stained carpet removed and replaced with a nubbly gray tweed, the cabinets and desk refinished. Orem's captain's cape hung from a hook; his books and not hers were on the shelf above the desk. He had chosen a plain dark blue bed covering, and his master's certificate had a two-color mat in tan and green instead of her plain black frame. Stella stood stiffly on the far side of the cabin, her beauty marred by tears and obvious misery.

“Stella,” Ky said.

“I know what you're going to say,” Stella said. “You're going to say it's all right and it doesn't make any difference, but it does.”

“Something like that, yes,” Ky said. “Though of course it makes a difference to you.”

“Why didn't they ever tell me?” Stella said. “If I'd known—it's even in pop psychology articles. Everyone knows adopted children should be told…”

“Yes. And they keep writing those things because not all parents tell their adopted children.” Ky sat in the desk chair. “Sit down, Stella.”

“On my captain's bed—that's a great image, Ky.”

Ky stood up. “Fine. I'll sit on his bed. I can put my feet up that way. I've had these formal shoes on too long.”

“And I really appreciate your subtle way of reminding me that you've been working all afternoon while I had hysterics,” Stella said, throwing herself into the chair.

Ky felt decades older than Stella. “That sounds like someone who is about ready to quit having hysterics,” she said.

“I don't want to be ready,” Stella said. “It's been the worst day of my life, and that includes the day I found out I was pregnant with that scum's baby and he'd used the family codes to run off with a chestful of Grandmother's silver. I suppose I can still call her Grandmother—”

“Yes,” Ky said. “And I'd think that would be worse, because you knew it was your fault. This—you're not responsible for Osman's sperm or your parents' decision not to tell you.”

“But I'm—” Stella shuddered. “I'm contaminated. Then it was just on the outside—well, not in my genes anyway—but this—I'm part of him in every cell, whether I want it or not.”

“And part your mother, who must've been a beauty,” Ky said.

“Ky, I'm really not in the mood for you to be nice to me. When everyone else finds out I'm Osman's daughter…I'll be no use to Vatta at all. No one will trust me.”

“Want to bet Aunt Grace doesn't know?” Ky said. “And she trusts you.”

Stella started to speak and then looked thoughtful. Ky pressed on.

“She knew people could make mistakes and get over it. She didn't look at you as just the beauty of the family, and clearly she thought you were trustworthy. And so do I. In the first place, we don't have to tell the whole universe you're Osman's biological daughter: you're the legal daughter of your legal parents, Stavros and Helen. In the second place, even if people find out, or you choose to tell them, that's just a tiny part—the smallest part—of who you are.”

Stella looked at the deck. “And you keep doing everything—you saved our lives when Osman attacked, you have Rafe—”

Ky stared at her. “Rafe? I don't have Rafe. Not in any sense you mean. Yes, he's been traveling with me, and yes, his expertise with electronics has been useful, but we aren't…anything.”

“He likes you,” Stella said.

Ky snorted. “Stella, he may be beginning to respect me, and he hasn't tried to trick me lately, but I don't think he's capable of liking me or anyone else.”

“Maybe.” Stella swiped a hand across her face. “I must look awful. Excuse me.” She went into the attached 'fresher; Ky listened to the water running and wished her feet didn't hurt as much as they did. Stella might be calming down for now, but would she be able to adjust to this new identity?

The Stella who emerged from the 'fresher seemed calm and capable.

“So what do you want me to do, Ky?”

Ky looked at her a moment, then said, “What do you want? And what do you think you can contribute?”

“Aside from my ability to strike men dumb? I'm a good data collector and analyst. But even though I've studied, I'll never make a good ship captain.”

“No reason you should be,” Ky said. “We need someone on the trading side, someone who's an insider in our business. You have more of that background than I do.”

“Are you serious about starting an interstellar space force?”

Ky shrugged. “Someone has to. This pirate group has enough ships to attack whole systems—no one system can stand against it. Either we combine against them, or we might as well lie back and give them whatever they want.”

“Which seems to be rape and pillage.”

“Right. Some of the other privateers, including one from Slotter Key, seemed to agree with me, but the Sallyon government was afraid. They forbade anyone to talk about it, especially me.”

“I know you think this is important, Ky—and I can see that it is—but what I don't see is how it advances Vatta's interests, except indirectly. We have only two ships—”

“Three, with Furman's.”

“Right. Three, then. And one of them a top-line ship. That's much better than when you just had this one—but it's not much to start a shipping line with.”

“Vatta Trading started with one,” Ky said.

“Yes, but its captain wasn't trying to fight a war. I don't see how you can do both.”

“I can't,” Ky said. “That's why you need to become our business leader, our CEO. It was stupid of me to make a fuss when you used the title. We can hire captains and crews, but we must have someone in the family heading the whole enterprise…and that's you.”

“I'm not really senior,” Stella said. “Aunt Grace…”

“If she'd wanted it, she'd have had it years ago. Do you really think either of our fathers could have held it against her? No. And yes, there are older Vattas, but most of them haven't been as active in the business as you, and a lot of them are dead. Besides, they're out of contact, stuck in a system without a functioning ansible. You can't run a business without communications. You have already demonstrated your ability to talk to banks, contractors, shippers—look at your record in just this short time—and that's on top of your insider knowledge.”

“I suppose…,” Stella said.

“Here's what I think,” Ky said, kicking her shoes off and rubbing one sore foot. “You should set up a satellite corporate headquarters—temporary, I'm sure, because the ansible service will come back—and start being the face of Vatta Transport. Let good crews run this ship and
Katrine Lamont
on whatever routes you find. Handle the finances; if you find other Vatta ships, bring them in and get them back to work, too. There should be two more on this route.”

“You trust me…”

“Of course I trust you!” Ky let some of her frustration seep into her voice. “Stella, I've known you since I can remember. You are not Osman. You are not like Osman. I mean, how much am I like my mother?”

“Point taken,” Stella said. She looked, Ky thought, much more focused and almost like the practical Stella of old…Stella had never been
all
pretty fluffhead except for a few adolescent years. “And then when ansible service is restored…”

“If it's safe, you get yourself back to Slotter Key. Talk to the seniors and explain that you're taking over because you're best suited—and I said so. Most of 'em don't know you have any relation to Osman at all, though I'll bet Grace does. And I'll bet she'll back you, and…there you are. Corner office, with windows.”

“If we ever have an office building again,” Stella said.

“We will,” Ky said, forcing confidence into her voice that she did not entirely feel. “You'll make it happen.” Stella nodded, this time with conviction, and Ky went on. “Meanwhile, I'll try to see that what happened this time can't happen again—because those responsible will be as dead as Osman. If I don't have to worry about running a trading business at the same time as fighting a war, I'll do my end better. And Grace did say I was to fight the war, right?”

“Yes, she did.” Stella rubbed her temples. “All right. So do you know where I should set up a headquarters? Nothing looks safe to me right now.”

“Nothing is,” Ky said. “But I think the enemy's busy consolidating its hold on Bissonet right now. Look for a system that has ansible service now, and connects to as many others as possible. Go there, and take Toby—he needs more school, so that's another consideration. Hire some good people—”

“I don't know if Aunt Grace's diamonds will stretch that far,” Stella said.

Ky waved her hand. “We have accounts here—we have accounts a lot of places. Furman just delivered cargo and got paid; I'm sure the obvious part of that is in the Vatta accounts at Crown & Spears. Once Vatta's seen to be an active concern again, we'll have access to those other accounts.”

“I could just stay here.”

“You could, if you decide it's the best place. I leave that up to you. How about it?”

“All right. Yes. Though I wish you were with me—”

“Stella, I still know too little about trade and profit, and you can't possibly do what I was trained for. Now, do you want Rafe to work with you on security issues setting up?”

“You'd give him up?”

“He's not mine,” Ky said. “I brought him along in case you needed him, but it's up to you. Either of us could find a use for him, or he may run back to the ISC. As he keeps reminding me, that's his primary loyalty.”

Stella looked thoughtful. “I don't think I need him. Maybe it's time for him to go back to ISC and figure out what's wrong there…though I'd think he'd be useful to you if you get this space navy thing going.”

“We don't need someone with divided loyalties,” Ky said. “And I think it would come to that. Logically, ISC's monopoly was broken when the first shipboard ansible was out of their control, but I doubt they're ready to admit that yet. That means my use of the ansibles—let alone my providing them to others—will be difficult for him to accept. At some point the strain may be too much.”

By the time Ky got back to her own ship, Stella had come up with a rough business plan. She would keep
Katrine Lamont
on the same trade route, since they had ongoing contracts; she would send
Gary Tobai
out on speculative trips to reestablish contacts. She would try to contact the ships Ky had found, the ones that had not believed her identity, and reconnect these scattered remnants of Vatta's fleet. She had laid out the crew she'd need to hire and the probable profit and loss for the next half year, appending an assessment of the markets through which she'd passed while following Ky to Cascadia. The
Gary,
she was sure, could make a profit just from connecting the Cascadia route to Rosvirein.

“Brilliant,” Ky said when she contacted Stella again.

“What I need now is your authorization to Crown & Spears,” Stella said, with no hint of the emotional storm she'd been through a few hours earlier. “I've also contacted local educational authorities; they want us both to apply for guardianship—he's still underaged here—but the facilities are excellent, both here and downplanet.”

“Stella, you're working miracles,” Ky said. “I'll contact Crown & Spears right away.” She glanced at the chronometer; they still had an hour for that.