Victory Conditions

by Elizabeth Moon

  Ky had forgotten that, but she remembered it now.

  “The major was aware—but I don’t believe the admiral was aware—that in the earlier events at Sabine, when Mackensee was forced to put up a bond by ISC, and the admiral’s—then captain’s—performance had impressed some of our senior officers there—a certain amount of preliminary background checking began. And was continued after the events at Lastway, but terminated when the admiral chose to pursue a privateer career.”

  “I wasn’t aware of all that, no,” Ky said. It was unlike Pitt to be so roundabout, but she must have a good reason.

  “In checking up on the admiral’s time in Spaceforce Academy, I happened to make contact with one Master Sergeant MacRobert. He thought a lot of the admiral as a cadet.” Now the faintest of blushes colored Pitt’s cheek. “We…um…corresponded now and then.”

  “About me?” Ky asked.

  “Sometimes. He was interested in how Mackensee saw the wider issues—piracy and the like—and after the attack on Vatta on Slotter Key—which to him looked more like an attack on Slotter Key itself, at first—he contacted me to see if I had any word on the admiral. Which, right then, I did not.” Pitt took a breath. “The long and short is, ma’am, that Master Sergeant MacRobert has been my source, as it were, for Slotter Key. And he’s now working closely with Grace Vatta, and apparently was before the old government fell and he may have had something to do with that.”

  Fragments of memory coalesced in Ky’s mind, forming a pattern that almost made her laugh hysterically. Those fruitcakes. That spaceship kit with strange parts. MacRobert and Aunt Grace? Together?

  “It didn’t seem something you needed to know, and he and I were both fully cognizant of the need for security—”

  “Are you a double agent?” Argelos asked suddenly. “Have you been all along?”

  “No, sir. My primary loyalty’s to Mackensee, same as always. But Mackensee saw, after Sabine, that Slotter Key and the Vattas were going to be important to know about. MacRobert knows that. He never passed on anything I could use to hurt Slotter Key, even if I wanted to. But there was a connection, and I was part of that connection, working of course under Major Douglas’ orders, as Master Sergeant MacRobert knew. The feeling was that two senior NCOs chatting was less…obvious…than Major Douglas calling the Rector of Defense. The thing is, after the—after Major Douglas died, all the responsibility fell to me. And I did think, after we knew the admiral was alive, that this was something to be passed along, with care.”

  Ky shook her head, fighting off the urge to burst out laughing and scream simultaneously. The others were less restrained.

  “What the hell—!” began Argelos, just as Pettygrew said, “That’s treasonous!” and the other officers muttered things Ky didn’t catch.

  “Master Sergeant Pitt,” she said. The others subsided. “I am to understand that you have been in contact with MacRobert ever since Sabine?”

  “Off and on,” Pitt said.

  “I hope you won’t take this the wrong way,” Ky said. “You saved my life, after all. But what you’re describing would put you in the position to cause some of the trouble you’ve always seemed to deplore.”

  “I was almost killed at Boxtop,” Pitt said.

  “Allies have been killed to cover tracks,” Ky said. “What strikes me is that you may be telling the absolute truth—and I know you have been truthful with me in the past—but if you were clever enough, you could be backstabbing Mackensee, and us, and Slotter Key. Major Douglas is dead; we have no independent confirmation of your past history; we have no way—without breaking the communications ban I feel is necessary—to see what Mackensee thinks about all this. Assuming that Mackensee is as it has presented itself.”

  “I understand, ma’am,” Pitt said. “It is logical…”

  “I’ve trusted you, and I like you, but you’ve put me in a position where I can’t continue to trust you. You know I wanted my survival to remain secret—”

  “Begging your pardon, Admiral, but you had not given that order at the time I contacted MacRobert. Even believing it was important for your people to know, I would not have done it against your orders.”

  “You can say that now, but…” Ky shook her head. “I want to believe you. I will check on the timing of your transmission, which I presume is logged on whatever ansible you used—”

  “Yes, ma’am. On Captain Pettygrew’s ship—” Pettygrew seemed to swell in his seat.

  “If, as you say, your transmission preceded my orders, then that’s a point in your favor. But until we are in a situation where I can again contact Mackensee command myself, I cannot allow you to access communications equipment, and you must consider yourself confined to quarters.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I understand, and I apologize for causing you this difficulty.”

  “Corporal Decker will escort you to your quarters.”

  Pitt did not object, as Ky half expected; she saluted and left, with Corporal Decker behind her. The moment the hatch closed, Pettygrew exploded.

  “That—that arrogant, meddlesome—”

  Ky raised her hand. “Dan, I know she shouldn’t have done it, and I know you didn’t mean to let anything like this happen. Please do check your logs, and check the time stamp on that transmission. My concern now is damage control. Grace Vatta knows, and Master Sergeant MacRobert knows. Would Grace have understood how important it is that no one else knows?”

  “Turek must’ve spread the rumor of your death,” Argelos said. “Your aunt knows you’re alive—her message makes that clear, and Pitt told her—told this MacRobert, anyway.”

  Ky was still thinking about MacRobert and Aunt Grace as a team. No wonder the bad government had fallen. How many had died in that, she wondered. And what was the status of the Commandant of Cadets? She pulled her attention back to the present. “We need the Slotter Key Spaceforce ships; if Grace needs confirmation…I wonder what will satisfy her?”

  “There’s always fruitcakes,” Argelos said with a grin. He had found the original fruitcake story hilarious.

  “Not a bad idea,” Ky said. “In fact…I think I can devise a message not even Turek’s best can figure out. Too bad we don’t have instantaneous matter transmission—I could just send her a fruitcake…”

  “That would make a military nightmare,” Moray’s senior commander said. “I don’t want to contemplate matter transmission, thanks.”

  Ky nodded. “I’ll take care of Aunt Grace. Now let’s consider how to deal with Turek…with what we’ve got left. It’s a mercy that putting the CCC into Vanguard meant we had to put the extra ansibles we brought you folks into Sharra’s Gift and Helvetia, or they’d be debris like the rest of her.”

  Argelos looked at her with a curious expression. “Could’ve been a worse loss than ansibles.”

  “It was,” Ky said, thinking of Hugh, Martin, Douglas, the Gannett family. “But the ansibles are the key to our ultimate victory.”

  CHAPTER

  FOURTEEN

  Nexus II, ISC Headquarters

  Rafe Dunbarger, acting CEO of InterStellar Communications, stared out the window at what had been an avenue of blooming cherries until the freezing rain withered the flowers. The view expressed his mood precisely. Every time he thought he had his life rearranged into something livable, a disaster moved in.

  “Rafe?” His sister Penelope, with her own problems.

  Rafe suppressed a sigh and turned to her with a smile. “Penny! You look lovely.” And she did, having regained the weight she’d lost in the aftermath of losing her husband and her baby. Physically, she was fully recovered. Emotionally, Rafe considered her still fragile.

  “I feel…better.” But even as she said it, tears glittered in her eyes. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I—I can’t help thinking…a year ago…”

  A year ago she had been recently married, pregnant, the wealthy and indulged youngest child of a wealthy family, married into what had seemed a secure relationship.


  “No apologies, Pennyluck,” Rafe said. He held her for a few moments, until she pulled back a little, then released her. “Dinner still all right?”

  “Yes.” She pulled out a tissue and blew her nose. “Yes. I need something to celebrate.”

  He didn’t have much to celebrate, except that he had saved her life, and his parents’…and in the process lost the most fascinating woman he’d ever known.

  “Tell me about Ky Vatta,” Penny said, tucking her arm into his. “She was in the news again—well, her cousin Stella was, but talking about Ky. What did you think of her?”

  Ky Vatta was the last person Rafe wanted to talk about. “Stella’s interesting, too,” he said. “Gorgeous creature, like a fine sculpture—”

  “I saw the pictures,” Penny said tartly. “I am not in the mood for gorgeous creatures…Ky doesn’t look so…so impossibly perfect. Did you hate her so much?”

  “Hate Ky? No.” He guided Penny gently out of the apartment, pinging their security with his skullphone to be sure the driver would be ready. Arral, the evening number one, fell in behind them; Madoc, the evening number two, was already at the elevator.

  “You don’t talk about her; I wondered if—”

  “She’s hard to describe,” Rafe said. “Not physically, of course: you’ve seen the pictures. But that mix of commercial and military background gives her…unexpected qualities. She’s…feistier than Stella. Not that Stella’s bland.”

  Penny looked sideways at him. “You’re hiding something.”

  “I’m not. I’m trying to answer your question.”

  “You are. I can tell. I thought you were in love with the other one, the gorgeous Stella.”

  “Not in love with,” Rafe said. “We had a brief fling. And I’m not proud of those years, Penny. She was a little younger than I, less experienced in what she was trying to do. I enjoyed escorting her, of course. But—” But any love had been on Stella’s side, and she’d clearly gotten over it.

  “So you’re in love with the dangerous one,” Penny said.

  “I’m not a character in a play,” Rafe said. “I don’t have to be in love with either of them.”

  “Right,” Penny said. Her voice was lighter now, teasing, as they rode down to the dock where his driver would be waiting. “You only rescue people, pretend to be a rakehell—”

  “I am—I was a rakehell.”

  “Inside, I mean. I don’t believe you ever were, inside. And you’ve fallen for her. The rumors were right. Don’t bother to deny it.”

  “I never argue with beautiful women,” Rafe said. He handed her into the car, checked with his security team that all was well there and aboveground, and then entered himself.

  Rafe had invited his personal assistant, Emil, to join them; a birthday dinner needed guests, and Penny had agreed that Emil would suit her. Winterplain suited her, as well: a restaurant whose dedication to privacy and comfort almost equaled its pricing.

  “Let’s talk about something else,” Rafe said, fastening the safety web. “Like how you’re doing—I hope you won’t find it insulting that I’ve been surprised and delighted by your work so far.”

  “Really?”

  “You have a nose for fraud, Penny—you’ve found one bent account after another.”

  “So you thought you’d bury me in paper and keep me busy and out of trouble—” He could not tell from her tone if she was angry or not.

  “Guilty as charged. I knew you needed work to do, some way to feel productive. And I was sure you weren’t a crook yourself. I had no idea I was turning a ferret loose in a rabbit warren. You’re talented at this, and you’re valuable to the company—or anyone else you want to work for.”

  “It’s easy,” Penny said. “Anyone could—”

  “No, they couldn’t,” Rafe said. “I can read people when I’m with them and spot the crooks that way, but I’m not nearly as good as you are at following cold trails through the books. You’ve found problems I never suspected.”

  “Were they all Parmina?” Penny asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Rafe said. “Too many diverging vectors of motivation…I think he created a climate in which fraud and embezzlement and simple incompetence could thrive on the margins of his own intent. Lying, cheating, and stealing became the norm; people who weren’t on his team shrugged and went after their own interests.”

  “And you’re changing that,” Penny said, patting his knee.

  “I’m trying—but an organization like ISC has a lot of inertia. Convincing people to quit doing what profits them is tough. I can’t fire everyone and start over.”

  “Why didn’t Father notice any of this?”

  “I don’t know, Penny. Parmina was working him, for one thing, and for all I know could’ve been feeding him poisons literally…something to dull his perceptions just that little bit. Unless Father was in on it—”

  “No!” Penny shook her head violently. “No. He was as surprised as I was when we were taken, and I’m sure he didn’t know about the rest of it. Though it does seem incredible that he wouldn’t…” Her voice trailed away; her expression, in the dim light of the vehicle, showed doubt and fear. Not emotions Rafe wanted her to feel on her birthday.

  “Let’s talk about something else,” he said for the second time, racking his brain to think of something. With war looming, with the company foundering, with their father still mostly incoherent and their mother still in denial about his condition, with the woman he loved facing death in combat…what other topics could they talk about?

  “I had lunch with Lucy Parmina last week,” Penny said. “I don’t think I told you, I gave her the name of my therapist after—you know.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Much better, I think. She’s not actually using my therapist, but another in the same practice. She’s started painting again, and she showed me some images—I can stand to look at them.”

  “Mmm?”

  “Well, when we were in school, she painted, but they were such horrible things—bleeding bones and faces that scared me—green stuff coming out of the eyes, barbed teeth—that I couldn’t look at them. Now she’s painting landscapes, and kind of stiff-looking people. But people, not horrors.”

  “I was an art dealer once, you know,” Rafe said. “Well, art and antiquities, anyway.”

  “You?”

  “Oh, yes. If she wants an agent sometime—if she wants to pursue a career in art—tell her to ask me. I know people.”

  Penny gave him an odd look. “I would never have thought of you as knowing anything about art. She does hope, she said, but I don’t think she believes she’ll make it.”

  “Her father’s faults can’t be allowed to ruin her life,” Rafe said. “How’s her mother doing?”

  “Not as well,” Penny said. “Lucy says she won’t leave the house, won’t consider going into therapy.”

  The car slid into the secure parking area below Winterplain. Rafe handed Penny out and redirected the conversation again, this time to artists he’d known and things he’d learned about the business. They chatted about art all the way up to their private dining nook, where Emil had just arrived. Rafe let Emil take over the conversation—he was eager to tell Penny about a musical show he had seen, and soon the mood lightened. Music—why hadn’t he thought of music? Thanks to their mother, Penny had had lessons and played two instruments at near-professional level; they’d had musicians staying with them on tour. Emil’s family had always had season tickets to the opera and the symphony; he, too, had had lessons.

  “But I didn’t have talent,” he said, grinning. “My parents took me to teacher after teacher, and they all gave up. I love to hear good music; I can’t make it. Do you still practice, Penny?”

  “I haven’t in a while,” Penny said. “I should get back to it, I suppose…but I’m not really the soloist type.”

  “Some of my friends have an amateur group—you might consider them. I could introduce you.”

 
; Penny glanced at Rafe, then said, “I’d like that, Emil. I’m rusty, but if I had a goal, I know I’d practice—I’d have to move instruments from my parents’ house—”

  She was looking happier; she was relaxed. If health for Parmina’s daughter meant going back to painting, then maybe health for Penny meant going back to music. Rafe ate the rest of his entrée with genuine pleasure.

  A tap on the door of their room startled him. No one should be able to find them, let along interrupt—but the door opened, one of the restaurant staff and a man in business attire.

  “So sorry to interrupt, Ser Dunbarger.”

  Rafe’s implant ran a rapid check. Alois Malendy, Assistant Secretary of Defense. He felt his pulse race, controlled it. “Not at all, Ser Malendy. I hope it is not too urgent; this is my sister’s birthday dinner.”

  “Sera, my pardon—ser—” The man paused, glancing at the others. “Ser Dunbarger, I am truly sorry, but this is a matter of considerable urgency. If I could just speak to you privately.”

  “Very well.” Rafe rose. “Emil, will you take over as host, in case this takes longer than a moment? Penny, my apologies.”

  “It’s all right.” In company, she had acquired a glow and looked happy and relaxed. Rafe rose; his other security guard moved with him as he and Malendy moved to an alcove just outside the room.

  “Ser…we have received word that a large force—the conspirators or pirates or whatever they are—have attacked Moray System. This information is relayed from the Space Defense Force.”

  Ky’s force. A battle. He felt suddenly cold.

  Malendy went on. “You may not be aware that Moray has military shipyards—very high quality—and apparently the pirates had ordered ships to be built, under pretense of being a legitimate government, and then arrived to steal them.”

  “That’s…how far away is that?” Rafe used his implant to query the ISC database. Sure enough, Moray’s system ansibles had gone down some hours before.

  “The system’s two tendays’ FTL travel, plus—”