Victory Conditions

by Elizabeth Moon

  “I’m not doing that badly and I’m learning every day,” Maxim said. “I’m a quick learner.” He was thin, intense, leaning forward into the video pickup, his fingers drumming on the arms of the chair.

  Grace looked at the pulse in his throat. Was he on something?

  “Just because Stella’s his daughter doesn’t mean she should inherit his job,” Maxim went on. “I mean, look at her past. And Stavros made mistakes…if he hadn’t, none of this would’ve happened.”

  And Maxim would have been just another married-in scientist. “Do you really blame Stavros for what happened?” Grace asked. “What mistake do you think he made?”

  “He didn’t see the threat coming. He didn’t know about the charges—”

  “That wasn’t his job, Maxim.”

  “Well, putting someone in charge of company security was his job, and he didn’t do a very good job of picking whoever it was—”

  “That would be me,” Grace said.

  Maxim paled. “You!”

  “Yes. And before you try to get your foot out of your mouth by saying something else, let me give you a few reality checks. I was not tasked to infiltrate the Slotter Key government and find out if elements in it were cooperating with offplanet criminals determined to attack Vatta headquarters and personnel. If you want to blame me for not knowing that the President, senior officers in Spaceforce, and others in the administration were involved…fine. Blame me. But that—the collusion of Slotter Key’s government—is what made the attack possible and continued to make attacks on our people possible until I brought down the government.”

  “You…brought down the government?” Now he was even paler, sitting back away from the pickup as if to put as much distance between himself and Grace as possible.

  “With some help from others, of course. But yes, the reason you are still alive today is that I acted in Vatta’s best interest.” Maxim said nothing; Grace waited a long moment, then went on. “The job of a corporate security chief is complex enough without considering that a government that has always been friendly and cooperative may be yielding to blackmail or other pressure, and becoming hostile. I dealt with internal matters specific to Vatta and with longstanding threats from without, such as piracy. The day of the attack, I had a new report to show Stavros…but never had the chance to deliver it.”

  “Well…all right…but that still doesn’t mean Stella should be CEO. She’s not even here—”

  “No, she’s established a successful branch of Vatta where she is—where she started alone, with minimal resources, and now has sixteen tradeships up and running and a very successful manufacturing program for a unique and highly desirable product. Her profit ratio’s climbing fast; yours isn’t.”

  “But she’s—she’s—”

  Grace broke in on whatever unforgivable thing he was about to say. “Maxim, you don’t have the votes. You can either fight and lose what you have, or leave gracefully.”

  “I have more votes than you think. Lots of people don’t think Stella would be that good. They remember what an idiot she was.” He still sat back, but with the kind of mulish expression Grace knew meant a mind made up in spite of evidence. It was a shame. He wasn’t a bad man, but he would have to learn that in some things, Grace had far more power than showed on the surface.

  Within a few hours she had arranged for Stella to vote her shares via Helen, for Helen to be fully briefed on what to do, and had checked up on her other family allies and enemies. On a whim, she looked up Maxim’s genetic profile, and stared at a sequence now too familiar.

  Maxim, like Stella, was another of Osman’s bastards. He’d been placed with a non-Vatta family, so he hadn’t made it onto her private list. And how had he come to marry a Vatta? She checked further. He had gone to the same university, having grown up in a respectable family—Grace could find nothing wrong with the Termanians on Slotter Key. Why hadn’t someone at noticed his gene scan before they married? Everyone had gene scans before marriage, to find out if they carried a genetic disease and thus their DNA would need some cleanup surgery. But of course, that was the only purpose of such screening, to find genetic problems. Habit alone made her dig deeper. Where had the Termanians come from?

  Termanian had first shown up in Slotter Key census records eighty or ninety years before, listing Nexus, of all places, as their system-of-origin. Medary Termanian, specialist in industrial colorants and dyes; he’d been recruited by Cosax Chemicals right out of university. A brother, Esarn, had followed four years later, to work for the same company. The next generation, born on Slotter Key, were all involved in science or technology—men and women both. Nothing that looked like an attempt to move into power positions—they had been both lab bench and field scientists, plant managers, that sort of thing. Grace did notice that there was a pattern of adoption, including adoption from relatives back on Nexus, and even then families were small. In that family, Maxim had seemed to fit—botany for an agribusiness job.

  So…had he been adopted from Nexus, like others? And how had Nexus come by one of Osman Vatta’s by-blows?

  Now that the Slotter Key ansible was back up, she could query Nexus’ own database for information on the Termanians. There, they were a prominent, wealthy family with strong influence in government and ISC both. A Termanian had been on the Board of ISC until very recently…until, in fact, he’d been shot dead by Rafe Dunbarger for being allied with Lewis Parmina.

  It was beyond belief that an Osman bastard, adopted into same family that had produced a traitor in ISC, married a Vatta girl and ended up safe during the catastrophe, rising to become—even temporarily—CEO of Vatta, by accident.

  The only question now was whether Maxim Vatta-Termanian knew he was a mole. He could have had his implant programmed to hide that from him, when he was a child. Still, the important thing was to get him out of his present position, and under surveillance. And to comb the databases for any more of Osman’s surprises.

  “Mac.” She called MacRobert on their very private and very secure com.

  “Problem?”

  “Yes.” Grace explained all the connections. “I’m thinking total surveillance until I can get a quorum together and get him voted out.”

  “You’re sure you have the votes and he’s sure he has the votes?”

  “Stella’s and Ky’s shares tip it easily.”

  “But they aren’t here.”

  “But Helen is Stella’s proxy, and Ky gave permission for Stella to vote hers when she left Stella at Cascadia. Just took care of that.”

  “We put a guard on Helen,” MacRobert said. “I’ll do that first. What about your other votes?”

  Grace sent a datafeed of the list. “You don’t think I’m being paranoid?”

  “Only as much as you should be. Make sure they all have protection. And I want you to take precautions, too.”

  “More than I am?”

  “Yes. I’ll be at the office before you leave.”

  Days earlier, she had invited Helen to bring the twins over for a visit. Now she could have used more time for research.

  “Don’t fret,” MacRobert said. He walked on her left, and the rest of her security team, before and behind, knew which way to jump if she needed to use her own weapon. “The visit won’t take that long. You’ll figure it out.”

  “You’re becoming a mind reader,” Grace said.

  “Practice,” MacRobert said. “And innate talent.”

  She chuckled. “I may need to talk to Helen privately. Can you handle the twins?”

  “I would like to think that having herded all those cadets, I can handle two young children. On the other hand, they are Vattas. I promise nothing.”

  Helen tried not to look at Grace’s arm; the twins stared. Jo’s children, now centimeters taller than they had been the summer before. They would have inherited her intellectual curiosity, Grace thought.

  “It’s grown quite a bit,” she said. “Come on over and take a look.”

  “G
ramma said we shouldn’t stare,” said Shar, who had been.

  “It’s not staring if I say you can look,” Grace said. They both came over, wide-eyed; Helen grimaced behind them. “They saw the worst,” Grace said to her. “They might as well see the healing.”

  “What’s the green stuff?” Justin asked. “Shouldn’t it be pink, like our insides?”

  “Or clear?” Shar asked. “So you can see better?”

  “Children—” Helen began. Grace waved her hand: Hush.

  “It was almost clear pinkish until two tendays ago,” Grace said. “It’s grown enough that they switched to the green—I don’t completely understand it myself, but it has something to do with enhancing skin formation. Because the bones and muscles are growing faster than normal, the skin must grow faster, too, and it can dry out and split more easily at this stage.”

  “Oh.” Justin frowned. “Is the skin going to look like a young woman’s skin, when it comes out? Or wrinkly like the rest of yours?” Grace didn’t have to look to know that Helen was rolling her eyes at this breach of manners.

  “It will look smooth,” Grace said. “And yes, it won’t match. I don’t care.”

  “I thought it would be baby-sized,” Shar said. “And it’s as big as our arms now. Can you wiggle the fingers?”

  Grace wiggled her fingers; both children drew in a breath. “I have to wiggle my fingers; I have to bend the elbow and everything, or it would come out too weak to be useful,” she said. “It’ll be in the sheath only another four tendays, and then I’ll start serious work with it.” She didn’t mention the painful therapy she was already getting three times a week. Some things children didn’t need to know.

  “It has fingernails,” Shar said.

  Grace almost laughed. The twins looked so interested, and so like Jo at that age, and Helen looked just as horrified as she had when she’d found Grace showing Jo how to field-strip a pistol. “How would you like some cake?” she said instead. Two little noses wrinkled.

  “Fruitcake?” Justin asked warily. He had been offered fruitcake last holidays and after one large bite refused more.

  “No. Pound cake with ice cream on top.”

  “Yes, please!” they said.

  “Go on into the kitchen,” Grace said. “Through there.” The twins darted off. To Helen, she said, “It’s all right, Helen. They’re looking good—happy, curious, normal children.”

  “It’s a lot harder without Stavros,” Helen said. “I thought I did most of the parenting before, but I realize now what a balance he gave.”

  Grace led the way to the kitchen. “None of the others have stepped in?”

  “We’re all overloaded, trying to keep things going, deal with the legal tangles. I have help, of course, but it’s not the same.”

  In the kitchen, MacRobert was scooping out ice cream, and the twins were up on stools, leaning over the counter, watching him.

  “You’d think I never fed them,” Helen said. “Once their appetite came back—”

  “It’s the age,” MacRobert said. “In a growth spurt, aren’t they?”

  “Do you have children?” Helen asked him.

  MacRobert pushed the filled bowls over to the children and handed them spoons. “Not of the body, no, sera.” His tone left no room for questions about that, but Grace could feel the pressure of Helen’s curiosity. She had not expected to find a man in Grace’s kitchen…though she should have. They hadn’t hidden anything. MacRobert had been around ever since the shooting.

  “Have you heard from Stella?” Helen asked now.

  “She’s in Cascadia—”

  “I know that,” Helen said. Her mouth tightened.

  “And she’s doing a fine job of running Vatta Enterprises there.”

  “I know that, too. But she hasn’t contacted me yet, not once.”

  MacRobert raised one eyebrow and went out the kitchen door to the back of the house where his office was.

  “Is this the time to get into it?” Grace asked, glancing at the twins.

  “I just want to know. Is she all right? Is something wrong? Is she upset about…something?”

  The two little pitchers at the counter paused, spoons partway to their mouths; their eyes slid sideways to watch the grown-ups. Grace could practically see their ears stretching out sideways.

  “She’s upset about finding out at the trial,” Grace said, trying for something the twins wouldn’t understand. “She blames both of us.” Helen most, of course.

  “She thinks I should have told her…but you know why I didn’t—”

  “I know,” Grace said. She knew the reasons; she had argued, years before, against those reasons and had lost. “And she’ll get over it.”

  “You think?”

  “She will,” Grace said. “Because she’s your daughter. And because…” She realized she could not explain the whole reason: that Stella was now in loco parentis for Toby and Zori, and discovering for herself the difficulties of parenting.

  “I just…I love her,” Helen said. She didn’t say And she’s all I have left, which they both understood. “If she doesn’t—”

  Grace sighed. Except for that one brief period, she had never considered becoming a parent, and Joel, bless him, had understood that when they married. “She will,” she said, and made a mental note to tell Stella to call her mother. Fight with her, yell at her if necessary, but at least call her.

  “What about Ky?” Helen asked next. “Do you think she’ll get over this military thing and come back to the family and help Stella run the business?”

  “Probably not,” Grace said, as mildly as she could manage. Helen was a nice woman, and a fine mind in her own field, but really…how could anyone not see what Ky was, what Ky had always been?

  “We need her. She should marry and settle down,” Helen said. “It would be good for Ky, give her a base…”

  MacRobert came back into the kitchen, as if Grace’s wish for an interruption had summoned him. “Ky marry?” he said. “I doubt that. Now she’s not besotted over that good-looking boy—”

  “She has a boyfriend?”

  “Had. Not anymore.” MacRobert looked grim for a moment, then smiled. “I don’t think she’s the marrying kind, Ky.”

  “Well, something has to bring her back. She can’t spend her whole life running around the galaxy having adventures. She’s Gerard’s daughter; she’s his heir; we need her here.”

  MacRobert cleared his throat; when Grace glanced at him, he flicked a finger signal that meant Calm down. She realized then the back of her neck was hot. “If she lives through this,” he said, politely enough, “she may come back—but I suspect they’ll tap her for work in the new combined fleet. Perhaps the family can buy out her interest.”

  “But she’s Vatta,” Helen said. Then she noticed the twins, smeary faces intently watching the grown-ups. “Justin, Shar, go wash those faces.” The twins slid off their stools and headed slowly for the kitchen sink. “In the bathroom,” Helen said. “Down the hall on the right. And your hands. With soap.” When they’d gone she shook her head. “They have so much energy.”

  “It’s not going to be the same, Helen,” Grace said. “Ky and Stella won’t be like Stavros and Gerard.”

  “I know that,” Helen said. “But—”

  “Stella will run Vatta…she’s doing it, she’s good at it, and Ky will give her the votes. You’ll get Stella back, Helen. But Ky is not just a Vatta anymore.”

  “There’s no just about Vatta,” Helen said.

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Grace said. “Mac, if the children want to play outside, would you take them into the yard?” Water had stopped running in the hall bathroom, and one of the floor-boards had creaked. Not only little pitchers, those two, but sneaky little pitchers.

  “I’m sure they’ll want to,” he said with a grin and headed back toward the hall. “Hey, you two,” he said. “Come on outside; your Aunt Grace has put in a whole playspace for you…” It was her own exercise
space, but they didn’t have to know that.

  When the back-door chime binged, Helen looked at Grace. “Is he yours? Who is he?”

  “Master Sergeant MacRobert, retired from Spaceforce. He was at the Academy when Ky was there; he’s been working with me at Defense.”

  “That’s not exactly what I meant,” Helen said. “Are you going to marry again? It’s been so long…” Joel had died over twenty years before.

  “No,” Grace said. “But I am sometimes going to have friends you don’t know about, Helen, just as I always did.” She took a sip of her coffee. “And it’s really none of your business.”

  Helen flushed. “I asked because I care, Grace.”

  “Well, then, if you care—Mac and I are very good friends, these days. We don’t intend to marry, and I doubt we’ll move in together. We like our independence. But I don’t necessarily kick him out of the house before bedtime. And yes, we’ve shared a bed.”

  Helen’s flush deepened. “You didn’t have to—”

  “Tell you everything? I haven’t. But remember, Helen, what I told you last summer. I won’t ever tell you everything, and usually I won’t tell you what I don’t think you need to know. That’s the rule I lived by for decades, working for Vatta, reporting to your—to Stavros. He understood; I hope you will.”

  “Is that the reason Stella isn’t calling me? She doesn’t think I need to know something?”

  “It may be,” Grace said. “But she was angry with both of us. She has to communicate with me—pure business, relating to deals between the Slotter Key Defense Department and Vatta Enterprises. We don’t chat; sometimes it’s her people talking to my people. She doesn’t have to communicate with you…so any reason not to may seem sufficient to her.”

  “I wish I had told her,” Helen said. “You were right, I was wrong—but you know, Grace, people can get very tired of one person always being right. You demand that people trust you; you keep secrets; you taught Stella to be sneaky—”

  “Now, that I didn’t do,” Grace said. “I taught her to be skillfully sneaky, but the girl was sneaky before, or she wouldn’t have gotten past you, with those relationships—”